Dark Lords Forever
by cspanbauer
Summary: Harry Potter is twenty-three years old, and Voldemorts is defeated yet. Harry knows the final battle is coming, yet he struggles with a psychological dilemma. He doesn't know how he can take a life, and is on a crusade against aggression.
1. Nothing Lasts Forever

Disclaimer: For this chapter and all chapters, I don't own Harry Potter. This is just to improve my writing skills, and no money is being made etc. etc.

**_Chapter 1 - Nothing Lasts Forever_**  
  
"You have served me well, Lord Voldemort. The situation, however, has changed." Voldemort knelt before the cloaked man standing above him. He knew that this man had the power to kill him in one swift stroke. It was a commanding voice, and if you heard it, you didn't dare disobey.

"How so, My Lord?" Voldemort asked, intrigued into this new revelation, yet still careful to remain polite.

The Cloaked Figure studied him for a moment. Voldemort, under that gaze tried not to shake. Whether he was successful or not he didn't know, "Harry Potter knows now that you are avoiding him. Remember, the confrontation is inevitable." Voldemort knew he had to face Potter, but what would happen if Potter killed him? He would ruin everything he, Voldemort, had worked for these past nine years, ever since he got that second chance.

"I know My Lord. But if Potter can somehow manage to destroy me-," Voldemort tried to make his case to the Cloaked Figure, but he would hear none of it.

"You fool!" The Cloaked Figure snapped, his usual way of telling Voldemort that it didn't matter. "You once again fail to see the larger picture! My plans go far beyond _you_ Voldemort. You are but a shadow of me. _I_ made you what you are! It was me!" Voldemort felt anger inside, a longing to rid himself of this beast.  
  
"Yes My Lord!" he said instead. He said that so often he could drown himself.  
  
"And if _I_ find the need for Potter to destroy you do not make the mistake of thinking that I won't allow him to do it." Voldemort didn't worry about things like this. The man said this so often that Voldemort just stopped taking him seriously. The man was on his side, wasn't he?

"Yes My Lord!" he said, seething that he couldn't say anything else.  
  
"Voldemort, my plans are your primary concern, not yourself," The Cloaked Figure chided casually, with just a hint of threat in his voice. There was something else there, pride perhaps?

"I know My Lord!" Voldemort said in the same voice, becoming more annoyed by the second. He hoped his emotions didn't show through his anger right now.  
  
"Do not underestimate me." The Cloaked Figure said warningly. "You are powerful yes, but you fail to master your emotions. What I am doing is for the greater good! If you seek revenge, your vengeance will only come to fruitation if it is part of my plan."  
  
Voldemort's anger was gone in a flash. "What is your plan then?" He had been trying to find out this person's motives for years, and he still had that to achieve yet.  
  
"_That_ is not for you to know. It is a magic that has been brewing since the beginnings of time. It has survived all the ages of this world and will survive until the destruction destruction of time."  
  
Voldemort was at a loss for words. He made many speeches like _that_, but never so...so...detailed as that.

The Cloaked Figure took his loss for words and continued, "Do not forget Voldemort, you are a pawn in the grand scheme. It would not harm me to crush you like the worthless worm that you are. You are not indispensable for glory it is you seek. Glory and fame, but I, Voldemort, I seek none of those. I keep the balance in the Universe!" The Cloaked Figure ended his rant by saying, "You are nothing to me."  
  
The Cloaked Figure smiled as he said this. Voldemort was beginning to be more of a liability than ever. Hopefully Voldemort wasn't stupid enough to try to overcome him. If such an incident occured it would be unfortunate to destroy Voldemort, but not a major loss. He could continue his plan because he kept the balance. _He_ was the Master.

"Come on Harry mate! What's the matter?" The voice was full of concern, concern that Harry Potter didn't want at the moment.  
  
Harry, twenty-three years old, looked at his best friend Ron Weasley in a long sidelong glance that gave Ron a few hints about what he wanted. Peace and quiet.  
  
"Nothing's wrong," Harry said, when Ron didn't pick up the hint. He wished he felt that way privately. Truth be told, this evening had been one of the longest of his life's, though not because of anything he or Ron could control.  
  
"Harry, I've been your best friend for what is it now, twelve years?" Ron replied. "I know when something's up with you so spill it," he said with a grin but still looked at him sympathetically. "In all honesty Harry, I've seen when something's up with _you_ a lot more than other people. And believe, something is _always_ up with you.  
  
Harry glared at him from behind his glasses, "What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped. How dare Ron even consider-!  
  
Ron held up his hands, "It's not an insult mate. You know I know you can't help it, but there was usually _something_ bugging you at Hogwarts."  
  
"Ron if you think that you-," Harry replied hotly. He wished Ron would just leave now.  
  
"Harry mate, I meant no insult. I just know when something's bugging you _because I am your best friend_."  
  
Harry looked away at the dank surroundings. It was dark, here the bar. A bartender quietly wiped a glass with a grimy rag. The glass was probably dirtier now that the rag had touched it.

In the background was a light dance music fluttering over towards the bar, but Harry didn't feel like dancing. He didn't feel like doing much anymore.  
  
Ron persisted, "If you don't want to talk about it now I don't care because I understand that. Harry, though, this will eat you up if you don't tell someone. When you want to talk I'll have an open ear."  
  
"Thanks Ron," Harry said sincerely. He knew he would never talk to Ron about his problems, but at least he was there. This wouldn't eat him up! It was Harry's problem that Harry had to figure out.

"Things are just _too_ complicated now."  
  
Ron looked at the ceiling for a moment, "Aren't they always?" he said dreamily. He wasn't really even saying it to anyone, jst sort of musing in his own way. There was a grain of truth in his words though and his meaning was loud and clear. When Harry was involved, there were always complications.  
  
Harry looked at Ron, "You know, I always wondered what it would be like to not be Harry Potter. To live a life without Voldemort, without being the Boy Who Lived." This wasn't why he was broading, he just wanted to get Ron off of his back.  
  
Ron's eyes told Harry that he was sincere when he said, "Harry, even if you weren't you can't escape You-Know-Who. He terrorizes everyone." Ron added hastily when he saw Harry's green eyes flash at him, "Now I don't mean to say that everyone has as hard of a life as you, but Harry-," he trailed off, lost for words.  
  
Harry sighed. Everyone was vulnerable and no one could escape Voldemort if Harry didn't do something soon. Voldemort was out there, waiting to strike. It had been a very stressful time and Harry knew he couldn't rest until Voldemort was defeated.  
  
"Look Ron, go have fun yourself, you can't help me now."  
  
"Are you sure-,"  
  
"You're wife is already giving you the 'evil eye,'" Harry said jokingly.  
  
"Yeah I better get over there," Ron said smiling. He took the hint to leave, finally, and got up, walking in the direction of his new wife.  
  
After Ron had left, Harry realized that it wasn't going to get any better here. He didn't want to leave on his best friends' wedding night, but he had to figure some things out. He slipped out the side door, and went around on the the street. The street was dark, with only a few pedestrians milling about. It was a cool night, and darkness was in the sky, with a haze of pink.  
  
It had only been in the last few months that he had realized something. Voldemort was scared of Harry. He could cause as much chaos as he wanted as long as Harry wasn't in the way, thus he had stopped seeking Harry out, but rather avoiding him. He wouldn't want to gamble everything on the slight chance that Harry might kill him.  
  
When Harry finally realized this, he took it for granted. It was great that Voldemort was avoiding him wasn't it?

Of course it couldn't be as simple as that. It never could. Harry sighed. If someone died from Voldemort it meant that someone was fighting another losing fight. He had the best, no the _only_ chance against Voldemort, and who was he to sit around while some guy got killed?  
  
The problem was, if Voldemort killed him in the end, what hope did anyone have of stopping him? It was almost as if Harry couldn't take the chance of dooming the Earth if Voldemort won.  
  
But he couldn't let this continue. He had to end the wondering. He had to finally tell the Earth if they were doomed or saved.  
  
Harry knew he would have to flush Voldemort out, maybe even trap him, and then kill him. Harry shivered. What was the balance point between good and evil? If Harry killed Voldemort wouldn't he be just as evil? At what point does defense become agression?

He couldn't seek Voldemort out. That would be murder. He had to kill Voldemort in self-defense. But Voldemort wasn't coming for Harry anymore was he? It was an impossible dilemma, but Harry knew that whatever he did, he couldn't go _looking_ for Voldemort. What if he became a Dark Wizard like Voldemort?  
  
That thought churned it his stomach, wizards trembling to say his name. He could imagine it now, a family like the Weasley's flinching everytime someone said his name. Harry shuddered.  
  
The moment had been long in the making, and Harry knew that sometime, somewhere he would have to face Voldemort. Harry would have to seek Voldemort out, and somehow, use every ounce of his strength to fight him. There would be no escape. It had to be victory.  
  
He just feared what would happen afterwards.


	2. Philosophical Dilemma

_**Chapter 2 – Philosophical Dilemma**_

"Voldemort things are becoming precarious!"  
  
"What do you mean?" Voldemort asked, though he knew perfectly well what the man meant.  
  
"I mean that Harry Potter is doubting whether he wants to fight you."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"It is enough that I know," the Cloaked Figure snapped. "He must fight you!"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Fool! Once he's dead, we have nothing to stop us!"  
  
"I thought you said you wanted me to lose," Voldemort accused quietly.  
  
"That's only in an extreme case scenario."  
  
"I don't trust you," Voldemort finally said.  
  
"Neither do I, but I use you because I must! Because I have to-,"  
  
"Keep the balance, I know. I've heard it before," Voldemort said, a little scared at what he was doing.  
  
"You dare interrupt me? I think you need to remember who's the Master here! The Cloaked Figure raised his wand. "_Crucio!_  
  
Voldemort screamed on the ground, until he had no voice left. He gasped for air, but his lungs were burning. The pain was so bad. Finally, it relented.  
  
"There!" The Cloaked Figure said smugly. "Who do you serve?"  
  
Voldemort choked, "You My Lord."  
  
"That's better. Remember Voldemort. You kill me, you have nothing."  
  
"And you kill me _you_ have nothing."  
  
"Don't be so sure. I have far more backup plans than you can imagine!"  
  
"So is your plan coming to fruitation?" Voldemort asked, once again, frightened of the Master.  
  
"My plan isn't world domination like yours! Remember, I keep the balance!"  
  
"You mind explaining to me what that means?"  
  
"All in good time. You will find out soon enough."

Harry sat despondently at the Hog's Head, just a few miles from the wedding reception. He wasn't sorry he left. Here, nobody cared that he had problems. Nobody cared that he was suffering. All the better. The more people left him alone the better.  
  
The place was just as dingy as Harry remembered it. A pale light flickered of the candles catching people laughing around the bar. The same filthy bartender was there (Harry could've sworn that that was the same glass he was washing when he came in here during fifth year). It was almost a surreal experience. Harry remembered how he had started the D.A. here.  
  
When did everything change? Back then in seemed so simple. Fight Voldemort, with all your strength but now, it was a lot more complicated. It was so black and white back then. Childhood innocence. Now there was a gray line in between what he felt was right and what he felt was wrong.  
  
Was it right to take a beings life, even for the greater good? How could he, Harry do murder?  
  
"Voldemort killed many people Harry," he told himself.  
  
You can't justify many wrongs with one wrong. If I kill one, or many what does it matter? I _still took a life_.

The problem was that Harry hated Voldemort. He hated Voldemort with all of his strength and he knew he couldn't do the murder in anger. He wasn't sure if he could do the murder at all. If he _did _kill Voldemort with rage in his heart what would happen. Harry thought ahead, but didn't see anything. Just a black void hung between him and his destiny.  
  
How could he abandon his friends to be killed by Voldemort? Harry sighed. He couldn't, therefore he would have to try, but Harry knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't take a beings life with the curse that had killed so many, including his parents.  
  
Suddenly, interrupting his musing came a man who sat down next to him, "Mr. Potter, such a pleasure to meet you!" He grabbed Harry's hand and shook it.  
  
"Well, what'd you think of me?" Harry asked, a little annoyed at this strangers intrusion. He gestured at his ragged clothes and probably five o' clock shadow.  
  
"Great as usual," the reporter said quickly not wanting to offend. "Well Mr. Potter, I was just wondering. You see I'm a reporter for the Daily Prophet and I was wondering how do you feel about Voldemort?"  
  
"Blimey I can't stand this," Harry said aloud. He threw some coins in the bars general direction and sprinted out. Why did his life always have to be interrupted? Couldn't he just sit at a bar in peace without being interrupted about Voldemort?  
  
He had to kill Voldemort just so his life would be normal. The problem was, would it ever be normal again?

Harry had been called a psychopath in his life. He had been called a snobby little brat. However, he had never been called a coward before. In fact, one of the things people seemed to admire most about him was his bravery.

Harry sighed for the umpteenth time since the previous day. It wasn't that he minded it being called a coward; he just felt that it was _wrong_ to attack. Self-defense was one thing, but if attacking meant lowering yourself to Voldemort's level, wasn't that just as bad? Most of this came from fear, which sounded crazy as he was being called a coward unjustly, of killing Voldemort. Not the actually process because he would be glad to get rid of the Dark Lord, but what would happen to him. How could he live his life while knowing he did murder, and what would happen to him.

He mulled all this over in thought. It was tiring business, these dilemmas, but nobody stopped to think about murder. They glazed over it because they never even had to consider using Avada Kedavra.

Voldemort had told Harry that he, Harry, would be a powerful Dark Wizard. Moreover, was it not right to be concerned about becoming evil? If they had half a brain, they wouldn't call him a coward because they would be dead if he was evil. Harry grinned at this.

Harry shook his head. Too often, these thoughts had been coming into his head. Too often had they been plaguing his thoughts. What would happen after Voldemort was dead? Would the citizens of the world have something the greater of two evils in Harry?

It was a scary thought and Harry blocked it out. He had to focus on his duty. Kill Voldemort and not become evil. He could do that if he just didn't hate Voldemort. Nevertheless, he did and that brought him back to square one.

"I can't keep having these thoughts," Harry said to himself and started walking towards his house and the bed that would carry him off to a more trouble-free place.

He was greeted with a less than enthusiastic greeting from Ron the next day when he went to their house. The house was a mess, because they had to do last minute packing for their honeymoon. Newspapers were strewn all over the floor. Sweaters, swimming suits, and other articles of clothing were lying around, ready to be put into suitcases.  
  
"You could've at least stayed," Ron accused slightly vexed. "I didn't push the issue of dancing because I felt sorry for you, but come on Harry!"  
  
"Look Ron I've gotta-,"  
  
"Sort things out I know. Believe me Harry, everyone knows what problems you have," Ron said starting to turn vicious.  
  
Harry felt his face go red, but not from embarrassment. "Ron look-,"  
  
"No you look. If I can't count on my best mate to be there for me, what can I count on?"  
  
Hermione who had been listening to this whole conversation finally butted in, "Look you two. I don't care that Harry didn't stay. Ron if he says he's got to leave, he should leave."  
  
"But-," Ron started to say, but couldn't finish. He had run out of words. It didn't stop him from glaring at Harry though.  
  
Harry gritted his teeth angrily, "Look you said you'd be there for me. Right now though, I don't see it pal."  
  
"Fine. What do you want to say?" Ron asked, slightly sarcastic.  
  
Hermione looked at Harry, "Harry, you should tell us," she said gently.  
  
"Nothing right now," Harry said. He wasn't about to talk to Ron about anything.  
  
"Fine. I'm leaving then," Ron said defiantly.  
  
"Yeah Ron. Go pack your stuff," Hermione said. Ron stormed out of the room and huffed. Hermione collapsed in an armchair as she sighed.  
  
"You know usually you're both slightly wrong, and I'd never thought I'd say it, but it's _all_ his fault." Hermione fumed. "Jesus I can't stand him sometimes."  
  
"Neither can I, but the difference is I didn't pick to spend the rest of my life with him," Harry said grinning. Hermione laughed slightly, but then her face turned to concern.  
  
"Harry, what's really wrong?" Harry looked away, confused about everything.  
  
"Nothing," he said looking away again. Darn it! Why did he have to do that every time he didn't want to answer questions?  
  
Hermione put her face in an I-Don't-Believe-You stare. "I don't think it was nothing that made you leave our reception. Harry still didn't say anything.  
  
Hermione was just as persistent as Ron was the other night. "Harry you can't tell anyone if you can't tell us. We're leaving on our honeymoon tomorrow. Please, just tell me."  
  
Harry didn't know why he started. Maybe it was because he didn't want to worry Ron on his wedding night. Maybe it was that he'd been pestered too much about this and he had to get it off his chest. "Voldemort has been avoiding me for several months now," he started.  
  
"That's gr-," Hermione started immediately to comfort him, but Harry held up a hand. "Just wait," he said.  
  
"Voldemort's been avoiding me, but look in the paper," Harry picked it up. He saw Hermione's intrigue on her features as he flicked through the newspaper. "There!" he said. The headline read, **Three Wizards Die in Attack**.  
  
"They died because I'm too cowardly to seek him out!" Harry said.  
  
"Harry that's crazy! You're not a coward! No one is to blame, but V-," but again Harry stopped her. "Save it Hermione," he said annoyed at all these intrusions. "Wait until I finish."

"Hermione, I have to face him," he said finally. She saw his tears in his eyes and studied him. She saw in there determination, she also saw fear.

"Fear of what?" she thought. "Voldemort? No, Harry wasn't scared of dying anymore." She just couldn't put a finger on it.  
  
"If I intercede and Voldemort kills me, I'll doom the Earth. If I don't intercede, Voldemort dooms the Earth in a much longer time frame. Hermione, the showdown is coming."  
  
"And what if you kill him?" she asked trying to reassure him.  
  
"That's even worse. What happens then?"  
  
"You save the world!" she said, clearly not understanding what Harry was getting at. Harry sighed. It was the same all over. Nobody stopped to think in his shoes. Nobody really thought about actually _killing_ someone.  
  
He couldn't take it anymore so finally he yelled "NO!" Hermione jumped, but said nothing. He took a breath and calmed down. "I hate him Hermione," he said quietly. "I want to kill that beast with every ounce of my strength, but what happens then? What do I become? If I kill him with hate, what do I become?" he was starting to repeat himself. He was breaking down mentally.  
  
"A hero," she said quietly though she could tell that wasn't right.  
  
Harry shook his head. He dropped his voice to a whisper and knelt beside her, "A murderer, Hermione. No better than him. That's all I will be."

"You will never be as bad as Voldemort Harry, you can't be!" She saw that this was the wrong thing to say. His features were desperate, but also defeated. He wasn't broken yet, but she knew the truth and she knew exactly what he was going to say.

"Hermione, I keep telling you, I hate him. That means I already am."


	3. The Shadow Threat

_**Chapter 3 – The Shadow Threat**_

"You will no longer have to worry about Potter ambushing you. I have sent an agent to bring him to you."

"Do you not believe _I_ can capture Potter My Lord?" Voldemort asked.

"Quite frankly, I don't. Once he is in our captivity, then you will duel him."

"Why not just kill him?"

"I have my own reasons," the Cloaked Figure smirked.

"I-," Voldemort began.

"What?" The Cloaked Figure tried to bait, "Don't you have faith in your abilities? Is Lord Voldemort losing his nerve?"

"That is not for you to say," Voldemort replied harshly.

"_Crucio!_" the Cloaked Figure said smugly. Voldemort fell flat on his back and screamed. "Voldemort I can do what I want and say what I want. Do you understand?" He let off the curse.

"Yes," Voldemort gasped and tried to get up. He couldn't so he just lied on the floor, like a dead thing.

"Good."

Another bar, another drink, the same worries. Ron was forgiven although he had been a total ass to Harry; it was not the first time. Harry looked around at the dozen other patrons of the bar, some having a quiet chat over a drink, some having a secret conversation in the corners of the buildings, and some of course, were staring at him.

Harry pretended not to notice, he just continued his drink as normal. After twelve years of being gawked at, he just learned to ignore it. Over the years, less and less people had been staring at him, but of course, there were the few that could not help it. It became second nature to him, and he really learned to live with it.

Harry smiled. How different it might have been if Hagrid never picked him up from the Dursleys', he would not know Voldemort and he would have had a completely different life.

Nevertheless, as bad as life here was, it was not much better at the Dursleys'. They stilled lived on Number 4 Privet Drive but Harry had not seen them since before he was seventeen. Apparently, another kid that lived on that street was going to Hogwarts. Harry was surprised that that lot had turned out a wizard. It's a small and surprising world.

Harry suddenly felt awkward. He glanced around to look at the other denizens of the place, and only one was sticking out to him.

It was a man on his left, who was staring fixedly at him. Yet the man was not _gawking_, as some other witches and wizards were, but just watching Harry. He was stealing glances whenever he could. It was almost as if he did not want Harry to notice the man watching. Harry turned to the right, so all the man could see was his back. Harry did not like the way he was staring at him. If he'd just come ask Harry what he wanted, Harry would feel a lot better.

Interrupting his thoughts, the man started to come over. It was as if he had read his mind. "Good day Mr. Potter." he said. "Pleasant day today, I just hope you don't get caught in the rain." It was not a sinister smile, but it was unnerving and something about the way he said that made Harry shiver. Why come all over here to say that? Harry put on a plastered smile and said, "No I'm sure I won't."

"Care to join me for a drink?" the man asked. Harry stared at him. He didn't like this at all. What was going on here?

"No I've actually got to run, but thanks anyway," Harry turned to leave, and walked out quickly looking over his shoulder. The man did not even notice that he had half of his drink left.

"Take care, Mr. Potter!" the man called out behind him.

As the man said, it was raining outside. The water was falling onto the cement like pellets of deception. Harry didn't know who that man was, but he was getting out of here fast. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but maybe he was right. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Harry turned to the left, looking back at the crowd. It was so foggy he could not distinguish anyone that caught his eye. They seem like they were going about their business unaware of anything else so Harry did not worry about them.

Something wasn't right here. Harry began to run. As he looked over his shoulder he saw the man come out of a side-door of the bar he was just in. Harry estimated he was maybe one-hundred yards back. The man was walking in his direction, and not slow either.

For the first time Harry saw his face. It was pale gray and looked as if he had not seen daylight for days. It was almost as if he wore a cloak. Harry shivered at what that could mean and started to run again. His feet splashed in the puddles, soaking his socks. He heard splashing behind him and as he turned he saw the man running right towards him.

"I've got you now Potter!" he said. Harry turned and started to run. Now he was sure that he did not like the man. Up ahead was another busy section in the street, and he sprinted towards it. He shoved people away, looking for holes in the crowd. He heard the man pushing his way through behind him , although not getting far.

When Harry broke through he tried turning left. It was a dead-end. Harry stopped weighing his options until finally he said aloud, "This isn't good." By instinct, he took out his wand and aimed it at the corner. He did not have time to get out and still be ahead of the Death Eater.

Then, cutting through the fog was a red blast that missed Harry by a hair. It hit the bricks behind him, chipping some of them and sending debris all over Harry. He got up sputtering. The man turned around the corner.

"The great Harry Potter, cornered in an alley."

"Never thought I'd see it," Harry replied, trying not to show his fear.

The man laughed. "Neither did I." He started walking towards him. Harry got ready. He resolved on the count of three to try this. "The Dark Lord will defeat you Potter! You didn't think you could hide from him forever did you?"

"You think _I_ would run?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yeah that's about right," he said. "NOW!" Harry thought, but stopped dead. "All I had to do was flush you out of the bar," the man was explaining. "If you just had stayed in there, I wouldn't have been able to capture you." Harry grimaced. So, it was capture mission, was it? It must be, after all. The man could not kill him; only Voldemort could do that.

"So you think I'd rather stayed in the _Hog's Head_?" Harry asked, trying to laugh and throw him off guard. "I'd rather take my chances with you." Harry gazed at him. "You don't look so tough," he sneered.

The man laughed. Harry's arm moved up instantly, and the Death Eater's laughter seized. He grabbed his wand. Harry was too quick though.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he shouted. The wand flew towards Harry and dropped in the middle of a puddle about five feet in front of him.

The man made a grab for his wand. "Oh no you don't," Harry said and quickly snatched it up before the man could get there. Harry held out his own wand at the man's forehead.

"What're you gonna do to me Potter? You aren't worth to spit on my shoes?" His eyes were fierce, and anger was botched all over his face.

"And I suppose _Voldemort_ is?" Harry asked amused. With that he spat on the man's shoes. "There! Now I guess I am."

The man's face started to turn redder. "Potter you have no idea what the Dark Lord has planned for you."

"Yeah. Every time he plans for me and I embarrass him every time. I wonder what he's got planned this time."

"You'll never know," the man replied nastily.

"And you'll never see it carried out," Harry shot back simply. "You will be in Azkaban. Anyways, Voldemort's been hiding the last few months. He doesn't have anything," Harry said with a smirk.

"You are not fit to say his name!" the man said. "The Dark Lord has many powers which you know nothing of Potter!"

"Yeah I'll bet," Harry replied. "A portkey? Tried that. An old diary? Tried that. The Sorcerer's Stone? Tried that. He's tried _everything _and _failed_. All he knows how to do is send a little prat like you after me. He's tried _everything_ else."

"_Why you little_-! Potter you don't know how many people will die. Your friends will be with them."  
  
"What?" Harry asked, alarmed. _Shoot_! He had lost his advantage of self-security.

The Death Eater grinned triumphantly. "Oh yes Potter! We will destroy the station that your friends are going on their little honeymoon on," the man had a smirk on his face.

Harry felt his anger start to boil with his hate. This puny little man was bragging about killing his friends. Something rushed through Harry like never before: A darkness he could only begin to comprehend. It also felt good.

"You will never get there in time," the man started cackling.

"Shut up!" Harry shouted. "What time."

"In an hour, but you're already too late. There's nothing you can do!" His cackling was going insane, and it was driving Harry insane.

"The great Harry Potter, finally defeated! So you have a weakness after all," the man said in between laughs. "Y-," but he never finished the sentence.

In that moment, Harry stunned him, unable to take anymore of his gloating. The man fell limp to the ground, his hair splashing into the cold puddle as the rain splashed down around him.

Harry was shaking when he got up. He had almost done murder, what he had always feared to do. What was happening to him? Harry had felt the darkness in him, and had wanted to kill him. If Harry had waited another second, he probably would have.

He could not tell Ron and Hermione about his growing darkness. It would only worry them. One thing was for sure though, Harry had to save them. He could not let them die! If he did, Harry didn't know how he would live, or worse, what he would do to the unlucky people who killed them. For unlucky they would be to have the wrath of Harry Potter taken out on them. Harry smiled. They would pay.

He shook his head, pretending he didn't just think that. He had to try to save them though. He had to forget about what had just gone on inside his head. If he did not, his friends would die. Thus, trembling from head to foot, soaked in rainwater he got up and dashed out of the alley, not sparing a second glance at the Death Eater. He hurtled to his apartment. He had to save Ron and Hermione! He couldn't let them die!

He had to try.


	4. Twisted Harry

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter  
  
_**Chapter 4 – Twisted Harry **  
_  
"The Death Eaters are on their way to the train?"  
  
"Yes My Lord."  
  
"Good," the Cloaked Figure said simply.  
  
"However may I ask you why you want to kill Harry Potter's friends?" Voldemort asked, with a hint of irritation.  
  
"Why do you care Lord Voldemort?" The Cloaked Figure watched him without eyes. It was quite unnerving, even to Voldemort.  
  
Voldemort paused for a moment, considering his options and trying how to word this without offending his Master. "Our resources could be used elsewhere," he finally settled on.  
  
"There are more complexities to this than you know," the Cloaked Figure said simply. He didn't say another word, but Voldemort feared that sentence. There were to many unknowns and variables in the Cloaked Figures words to really understand what he meant.  
  
"Anything else My Lord?" Voldemort he asked simply. Whatever the Cloaked Figure had planned, Voldemort was sure he would be better off he stayed on his Master's good side.  
  
"No Lord Voldemort. Believe me, your time with Potter will come. The final battle is inevitable."  
  
"So this agent was successful in bringing Potter in?"  
  
"I do not know," the Cloaked Figure confessed, "but with much luck, the mission will be successful."  
  
"With all due respect," Voldemort said hastily, "I think you underestimate Potter. You don't know how clever the man actually is."  
  
"Voldemort, how many times must I tell you?" The Cloaked Figure sneered. "You are too stupid to understand things."  
  
Voldemort let the comment pass, but he did say, "Nonetheless, beware of Potter."  
  
"Do not give me counsel. I know more than you do."  
  
"Yes My Lord," Voldemort said. After all, if Potter killed the Cloaked Figure, then the man would get what he deserved.  
  
"Still, even after your curiosity, you have done well. Let's just hope this Death Eater agent of yours actually _was_ up to the challenge."  
  
"He is My Lord," Voldemort said, trying to reassure his Master.  
  
The Cloaked Figure said in a deadly voice, "I hope so Voldemort. For your sake at least. Harry would have enjoyed the feeling of his Firebolt, which was still flying just as smoothly as always, if worry hadn't been racking him since he started. The hillish countryside had been flying by with a breeze, the green grass flicking past without ever knowing he was here. He had on his invisibility cloak so that nobody could see him, that didn't stop him from being cautious. The last thing he needed was for some Muggle to see him.  
  
He knew which train station the Death Eater was talking about. Harry concluded that it was probably the one that Ron and Hermione were transferring in. Harry checked his watch. He grimaced. He was still about fifty miles away and he only had fifteen minutes to get there, and do anything he could.  
  
_Anything he could._ He hadn't begun to think of a plan yet, and in fact, when he thought about it, what could he do? Harry shuddered at using _Avada Kedavra_, but he might just have to. In Harry's mind this was defense, and aggression could be used in defense.  
  
"What am I going to do?" Harry thought. He knew that if he didn't try though, he would regret it forever. The flight seemed to take forever, but Harry knew why. He was anxious and no matter what, when you are anxious it will take a long time.  
  
Harry noticed a little hillside house on his far left. There was a mother outside hanging her laundry, with two children running around the yard.  
  
"That must be such a simple life," Harry thought, "simple, but perfect." Harry would've thought more about it, but he had already thought of matters such as that, way too much. Harry had the life he had, and nothing could change any of that. Period.  
  
Harry thought again. He knew he did not want to kill, but how could not he? If it meant a Death Eater or his friends, what would happen? Would he betray his feelings or would he save his friends.  
  
Either way, he would be miserable. How much of this paradox could he take? Harry shuddered. No matter what, his life would never be the same after the confrontation with Voldemort. He wouldn't go over to evil, that he knew. He vowed to fight it, no matter what happened.  
  
Nevertheless, he was not confident in his vow. "If I am evil, then do I really care about vows?"  
  
The other side of his head said, "Only time will tell." Harry saw the train-station near when he could see it. The fog was very difficult for visibility and it wasn't until he was very close to the station could he actually see it.  
  
Hell had already broken when he got saw it. Trains were a mess, flying everywhere, and people were screaming, fleeing from the Death Eaters. Some of course, had there wands out, ready to fight, but fear was just too much.  
  
A green blast came whizzing through the air, nearly hitting him. Harry swerved to avoid it, and saw the Death Eater below. "_Riptosempra!_" he shouted, and the Death Eater did a double take as he cracked his head against the wall.  
  
Harry dismounted, feeling woozy. If he would not have these damn qualms about violence, none of this would be happening. Voldemort would be defeated and the world would be at peace.  
  
Harry shook his head. "No more dilemmas. I need my head clear," he thought to himself.  
  
Harry ran along the wall, away from the destruction. "Hermione! Ron!" he called out every so often. Harry didn't know why he did, but he ducked. A knife came slinging in his direction, thrown by a Death Eater. It barely missed his head. When Harry looked up, the Death Eater was already pointing his wand at him. Simply be reflex, Harry thrust his wand out and muttered a stunning spell. It blasted the Death Eater in the chest and sent him flying backwards into a wall.  
  
"How very clichéd," Harry thought, remembering action movies he had seen since he graduated from Hogwarts.  
  
He turned around the corner and heard a voice. He knew that voice and it was quietly calling his name, "Harry, Harry, in here! Please." He spun around a corner and into the ruined train station. There, huddled in the corner, was Hermione and Ron. Harry ran over.  
  
"Oh thank God you're okay Harry," Hermione said, tears quietly slipping down her face. "I lost my wand, and Ron has a broken leg. Stay here Harry! Don't fight!" Harry just noticed that Ron was unconscious. He grimaced. Hopefully he could keep the Death Eaters out of here for awhile.  
  
Harry turned his attention back on Hermione and realized what she just said. "What why not?"  
  
"You scared me last night! I don't want you to be a murderer," she sobbed slightly.  
  
"Don't worry, I won't be." Harry said, his thoughts going cold as he remembered his near murder on the Death Eater who followed him.  
  
"I know you won't be," she said, and threw her arms around him.  
  
Hermione sobbed, but did not say anything else. Harry looked at her and said, "I have to fight Hermione. It's my duty," he said, sensing that she was unsatisfied with his answer.  
  
"Don't you TELL ME ABOUT DUTY!" Hermione screamed. "YOU COULDN'T KILL LAST NIGHT. WHY CAN YOU NOW?"  
  
Harry looked at her. "Hermione, trust me. I won't kill anyone." Hermione visibly calmed down as he said this. "There are alternatives to murder in battle you know," Harry said with a wry grin on his face.  
  
Hermione put her fingers on his face and laughed through her sobs, "I know Harry. I know."  
  
Harry got up to leave, but not before an explosion ripped the front of the building apart. In strode about five Death Eaters, hooded as always.  
  
"So we have the great Harry Potter here, do we?" one of them mumbled after seeing him.  
  
"Yes. I imagine the Dark Lord will be pleased," a different one said.  
  
"Yes," came the reply of the first one.  
  
Harry stood there motionless, for there wands were all pointing at his heart. His mind said, "Do something Harry! NOW!" but he couldn't move. This was really the end. But it couldn't be. Unless it was Voldemort under that hood, the Death Eaters couldn't kill him.  
  
Then something inside of him told him to leap to the side. He didn't know why he followed it, but he did. As he hit the stone floor, he saw a green light shoot past him. It hit one of the support beams causing the ceiling above Ron and Hermione to start to fall. It was braced at the last second, by another beam on top of it.  
  
"Well what do we have here?" The Death Eater asked. He cackled and fired a green light at the ceiling's one support beam. Hermione screamed as the whole ceiling started to collapse. She leapt out of the way, but Ron could not. He was unconscious and had a broken leg.  
  
"RON!" Harry yelled, as the ceiling fell on him, but it was too late. The ceiling fell on him. In it a swirl of emotions raged across the room. The Death Eaters had triumph, Hermione had grief, but Harry, he had something far worse. But it didn't matter, because only one thing mattered. Ron was gone and nothing was going to bring him back. Harry got up from the rubble, a new emotion besides sadness bellowing inside him. The Death Eaters were smiling underneath there cloaks when suddenly Harry had his wand at their throat. "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_ he screamed. The biggest light Harry had ever seen billowed from his wand. It was a bigger spell than he saw Voldemort do, and as it engulfed the Death Eaters, they all fell dead.  
  
Harry breathed. He wasn't shaken, nor trembling. It was this that scared Hermione the most. He was smiling, and his eyes were wide with amazement. "Harry, you-," but the expression she saw in Harry's eyes wasn't his. It wasn't the even anger. It was pure hate. In his eyes she saw nothing else. There was only hate. No happiness, no sadness, no guilt. "Harry," Hermione whispered. Harry's amusement faded, and his eyes began to waver. Suddenly, the impact of what he did hit Harry in a wave of guilt. He collapsed to the floor, crying. Hermione had never seen a more pitiful sight. Her heart melted for him. She wanted to comfort him, but was at a loss for words.  
  
Harry was curled up in a ball, crying. Thousands of thoughts were going through his mind. Could he kill Voldemort now that he did it once? What did Hermione think? What would Dumbledore think? Why could Voldemort kill without remorse?  
  
Death Eaters charged into the building around him. Harry did not care; nothing could've moved him for the world. Hermione stepped over him, her wand ready. It looked like she would have to fight after all.  
  
"Step aside girl," the Death Eater hissed in a cold and calm voice that was eerie even to Hermione who had heard them before.  
  
"No," said the other. "She's a Mudblood." Hermione gulped down fear, and stared defiantly. "Kill her!" he concluded.  
  
Hermione raised a hand without even thinking and sent a fireball in their direction. It was way off, and crashed into the stonewall behind them harmlessly. She was trembling, because this might be the end.  
  
"Let me show you how to aim, girl," the Death Eater said and grabbed his arm. Hermione twisted, but he only pulled harder. Hermione screamed, trying to bring herself away from the man. Why didn't he just let go?  
  
And he did. There was Harry, tear-stained, standing where he had just been pitiful. His stunner had taken out both Death Eaters.  
  
Harry walked away from her. He heard her call after him, but he didn't look back. As he walked outside, Harry saw the other wizards driving the Death Eaters back. One of them came up and shook his hand.  
  
"Thank you Mr. Potter. You gave us hope! We wouldn't have been able to-," but Harry let go of his hand and walked off, again, ignoring the man.  
  
He found his Firebolt and kicked off, away from his personal tradgidies, into a better world and sky. He cried out in anguish and almost fell off his broom. Harry had killed those Death Eaters and hadn't thought twice about. Harry had no doubts that he would have killed the rest of them if Hermione hadn't said his name.  
  
A name. That was all that separated him from good and evil. Harry gulped. He knew why he felt so bad. He had enjoyed killing the Death Eaters, and wished he could have killed more. He was now a twisted human being, never cleansed of the shame. 


	5. Voldemort's Power

Part Two: The Balance Tipped

**_Chapter 5 - Voldemort's Power_**  
  
"Voldemort, I tire of having these conversations with you. Harry Potter will _come to you._ You must _not_ seek him out!"  
  
"Why not?" Voldemort asked with a drawling voice.  
  
"Because of my plans you fool! They must not conflict!"  
  
"You said I would know your plans soon. Where are there? _What_ are there? I begin to wonder if there really _are_ any plans."  
  
"You will not tell me what to do! This is more than good and evil _Lord_ Voldemort. This is balance. Remember what I told you. There is only power and those too weak to seek it."  
  
"Do you mind telling me exactly who you are?" Voldemort pressed, but didn't quite hide his irritation in his voice.  
  
"I am nothing to you. I am a balance-keeper Voldemort. You are a pawn. I am the King!"  
  
"Yet the King cannot move, but one space at a time," Voldemort said, amazed at what he was saying.  
  
"That's how I work. Slowly," the voice was not more than a whisper. "You have no idea the complexities of my plan. You are a pawn."  
  
"Yes My Lord. I do not appreciate being a pawn." Voldemort said this abruptly. How dare this common-,! But no, this figure wasn't common. He was an evil so great that nobody could possibly imagine. Yet he still underestimated Voldemort. "I am better than that. I am a Master!"  
  
"Really? Voldemort," he started and withdrew a green emerald from his cloak, "you must learn your place."  
  
Voldemort gasped. If he dropped that! "NO!" he said.  
  
"Your powers will diminish," The Cloaked Figure said with no hint of sneering. "You will fade away, a mere shadow and thought. Nobody will remember you. The fear you inspire, the terror, will be gone. You will be a lonely outcast until time shatters the Earth, a shadow of what could have been," after the speech was over the Cloaked Figure, shifted his feet and lowered his voice, "_Vivificus Auctorita_ Voldemort."  
  
The emerald swayed in his hands. "I could drop it."  
  
The crystal gave him strength. It was his very being! It was how he was so powerful today! With the breaking of that crystal, all would be lost. Voldemort shuddered. "Yes My Lord." He was the pawn once again.

"Come on! Open UP!" Harry screamed at the gargoyle. It did not care that he was in a torment. It did not care that Dumbledore would _want_ to see him. He was unmoving, sneering down at him.  
  
Harry sighed. "Do you want me to guess? Is that it? Fine." Harry glared at the stone face above him.  
  
"Chocolate Frog. Lemon-drop. _Sherbert_ Lemon! Oh just move well you?" He couldn't think of anything else. He threw himself at the door in frustration.  
  
"Acid Pop," said a small voice behind him. Immediately the door behind him began to move, causing him to slide back into the room.  
  
Harry turned to see who had said the password. It was a small boy, probably in his second or third year. "How did you-?"  
  
"I've been up there," he said simply. He looked around and said slowly, "I've always-,"  
  
Harry stood up. "Look I have to talk to Professor Dumbledore, so move," he said irritably. It was rude since after all, the kid had opened the door for him. The boy did not seem to notice. He just shrugged his shoulders and walked off.   
  
"Stupid kids," he said to himself as he charged up the stairs.  
  
When he opened the door Professor Dumbledore looked up and said, "Minerva if I could just-," and then his eyes found Harry. He just let out a small, "ah," very gravely.  
  
Harry just sat down. How many times had he been in this chair?  
  
Harry couldn't stand the silence any longer, "I killed them," he said simply. He could not wait any longer; he had to let it out. He could not have bared any pretense.  
  
Dumbledore looked down, and then stood up. He turned away from Harry and faced the window. Then he sighed. "I know Harry. I know."  
  
Harry looked at Dumbledore, too ashamed to speak. Dumbledore looked out the window, past Ravenclaws Quidditch team practice, past the Forbidden Forest, to the rapidly setting sun.  
  
"Too often Harry, I have been able to conjure up _magic words_ to comfort you. Right now, I am afraid I cannot do that. I don't have any words to say."  
  
Harry looked away.  
  
"Harry, you are a man now. I am not angry with you. Nor am I disappointed. I have known since you were born, that one day, you would have to be a murderer. I've lived with that, and come to terms with it."  
  
This was such a profound statement that Harry realized he was speaking the truth.  
  
"I am not disappointed, yet I am sad that you have to have this burden. You must be the one to murder Voldemort. You must be the one to as-," but he trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Harry had a feeling there was more to it than that, but Harry did not press the matter.  
  
"Professor, I just can't help but feel, that I can't kill Voldemort. How can I be a murderer?"  
  
"Harry, you already are," Dumbledore said sharply.  
  
Harry looked away and regrouped his thoughts. "How can I kill Voldemort in cold blood? I lost control of my emotions at the platform, yet I still feel remorseful. How can I kill and live with it?"  
  
"Harry. Are you telling me that you would feel fine about murdering Death Eaters in a blind rage and yet you can't kill Voldemort in cold blood?"  
  
Harry shook his head, "No I just-,"  
  
Dumbledore cut him off, "Murder is murder Harry. Never forget that."  
  
Something about the way he said that gave Harry a start. Some double meaning sent shivers into Harry's spine. Harry looked at Dumbledore, and couldn't quite believe that it was _Dumbledore_ who said something that way. Maybe Harry was just imagining things.  
  
He wanted to respond, but his mouth was too dry. Dumbledore did not wait.  
  
"Harry, if you feel you cannot kill Voldemort, just remember all those that Voldemort will kill if you don't kill him."  
  
"Are you telling me that his murders, _Voldemort's_ victims' blood will be on my hands?" Harry shook his head. This was the worst thing he had ever heard Dumbledore say.  
  
"It his _his_ hands Dumbledore!" Harry said, a fire erupting in him. "Only _Voldemort_ is responsible for _Voldemort's_ actions."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. Then he said, "Congratulations Harry. You've passed the test."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"You said exactly the right thing."  
  
"But-,"  
  
"Harry, remember what I told you in first year. Someone must stand up to him. And that someone must be you," Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, it pains me to say this, but I fear that I must."  
  
Harry looked at him.  
  
"Put aside your morals. Do what you were born to do." It was not said sharply, but with only with a hint of encouragement.  
  
Harry realized it. Dumbledore had coddled him since first year. He was not a child anymore. He was a man. He had responsibilities that he had to do, and Dumbledore was encouraging him.  
  
The thought made him shiver, yet he did not sense any evil from it, but Dumbledore was encouraging him to kill.

Harry left Dumbledore's office that day feeling a worse than when he entered. Dumbledore had always radiated strength, but he had changed. Was that always true though?  
  
Ever since his first year, Harry had always taken for granted that Dumbledore would always be there to talk to him, always be able lead Harry in the right direction. Now though, something had changed. Harry understood then, that Dumbledore had not changed, _he_, Harry, had changed. He now no longer liked Dumbledore's advice. In a way, Dumbledore never had a problem with Harry fighting. It was almost as if he _encouraged_ violence!  
  
No, he never went that far. He just never said anything about it, because any violence Harry had committed was in defense. Now, though, Harry had to be the aggressor. He could no longer wait for Voldemort to kill him; he had to try to seek Voldemort out.  
  
Nevertheless, something in the back of his mind said that he wouldn't. He could never seek someone out to kill someone. It was just against everything he had been standing for lately.  
  
Something knocked him down sharply. He looked up and saw Professor McGonagall rushing past. She had skidded around a corner and accidentally smacked him in the back of the head.  
  
"Sorry Potter, but you should come with me."  
  
"Great. I can hardly wait to find out why," Harry muttered. He still followed her down the hallway all the same.  
  
They passed a portrait in the halls that said to them, "Hey there no running!"  
  
"Stow it you," McGonagall said shortly.  
  
Harry caught his name out of the corner of their eye that read:  
  
**Stewie the Strict. Headmaster 1543-1572**.  
  
He heard Stewie the Strict distinctly say something along the lines of, "Well I never! The staff was never rude when I-," but his voice was drowned out as they passed him.  
  
When they finally reached their destination, which turned out to be Snape's dungeon office, McGonagall said, "I brought Potter as well."  
  
Harry turned to see Snape's lips curl as he said, "Wonderful," mock-happily. Harry just stared back at him. He was not a student anymore. He could not deduct points, thus losing his power. Harry, however, was not about to sink to his level by snapping back. He just nodded curtly and took a seat at the table.  
  
"If thought I told you that if I ever caught you in this office I would have you expelled," Snape murmured so McGonagall could not hear him. Harry stared at him incredulously. Snape only turned away. It was not as if he was sneaking around in the middle of the night. Moreover, he wasn't even a student anymore. McGonagall brought him here!  
  
It was probably just Snape being good-old happy Snape again.  
  
_"Sour grapes,"_ Harry thought to himself. He even allowed himself to smirk a bit in Snape's direction. Snape's face went red, but he did not dare say anything in front of McGonagall.  
  
"What are we doing here anyway?"  
  
"We're waiting for Dumbledore Potter," Snape replied, "as well as a few other members of the Order." He paused. "For once will you please keep that overly-large...," he trailed off as he caught one of the worse glares McGonagall had ever thrown.  
  
He started again, "Just try to stop asking the obvious please Potter," he said very friendly. Harry laughed aloud. McGonagall did not seem to notice or care, but Snape threw daggers. For once though, he shut his mouth.  
  
"_Severs_ you really crack me up," Harry said still chuckling. He was not laughing for any reason, just purposely antagonizing Snape.  
  
After several minutes they heard a loud _snap_ as several Order members appeared in Snape's office. Harry saw a very grungy-looking wizard appear in front, whom he recognized as Mundungus "Dung" Fletcher. To his right and back, he thought he saw Nymphadora Tonk's bubble-gum hair sticking from behind Mundungus's hat. Behind Mundungus on the other side was the ever-paranoid Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. Completely hidden from view, was Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in third year, Remus Lupin. Harry would not have known he was there except for the jovial, "How are you Harry?" he called out as he appeared.  
  
"Just fine Remus," Harry replied, wishing he could believe it.  
  
"Well obviously you're not."  
  
"Well he _is_ in Snape's dungeon," Moody said, trying to cheer Harry up.  
  
Snape looked at him, "Excuse _me_ Alastor, but if you don't feel comfortable you can just leave."  
  
"Believe me Snape, I would if I could."  
  
"_That_ is enough," said a strong powerful voice behind them. Normally, Harry would have felt strength from Dumbledore, but after his conversation with him, he felt only uncertainty. It wasn't because Dumbledore was acting different, but because he had a different understanding of Dumbledore's words.   
  
"Thank god you're here," Tonks said. "We need to really hurry now."  
  
"Don't worry Ms. Nymphadora," Tonks cringed at this, "but we still have an hour or so to get there."  
  
After a few moments of silence, Harry said, "Would anyone mind telling me what's going on?"  
  
"Well Harry, you see we've been making a plan for awhile," Lupin said.  
  
"What is it," Harry asked. They gave nervous glances at him. Harry knew why. They feared that he would disapprove of whatever they were doing. "Just tell me," Harry said. "I swear if I don't agree with it, you won't hear a word about," he clapped his hands together as though it was settled. "Now, what's this about?"  
  
When the rest of them were silent, Lupin stepped up. "Harry, we're going to ambush several Death Eaters."  
  
"How?" Harry asked, though he was already growing uneasy with this.  
  
"St. Mungo's," Snape said sharply.  
  
"An ambush Harry," Lupin said.   
  
"Where are the patients? Harry asked out of curiosity.  
  
"They have been moved elsewhere so we won't endanger any civilians," Dumbledore said.  
  
Harry felt a slap of annoyance. They just seemed so brutal to him. Why was killing a Death Eater different from killing a civilian? He opened his mouth to retort, but bit his tongue. He had promised not to say anything.   
  
"Do you have a problem with that Potter?" Snape spat.  
  
"Well, yes," he admitted, but Snape's look of triumph forced him to continue, "but like I said, I won't stop you from going."  
  
"That is good, because nobody here wants to hear your little dilemma about aggression and some-such nonsense."  
  
"Nobody expected _you_ to have any qualms about killing someone," Moody shot back.  
  
"And why would nobody expect that?" Snape asked coldly.  
  
Moody did not answer, but everyone knew what he was getting at. Snape the Death-Eater.  
  
"Enough. Voldemort will be attacking St. Mungo's in forty-five minutes!" Dumbledore said urgently. "We must be prepared!"  
  
"My thoughts exactly," Moody said. "As I've always said **'Constant Vigilance!'**"  
  
With that then, they all disapparated out of the blackness of Snape's office. 


	6. Balance Point

**_Chapter 6 - Balance Point_**  
  
"My Lord, the plans are set. There will be no one to stop us this time."  
  
"No indeed Lord Voldemort, however, don't be so overconfident. The fools of Dumbledore are not as weak as you suppose."  
  
"Is there any news of Harry Potter?"  
  
"Yes. It is beginning. Soon Lord Voldemort, you will meet your match." Voldemort started. What did he mean by that? Did he actually _want_ Voldemort to lose?  
  
"Do not mistake my words," the Cloaked Figure said, "because I do not mean to imply that you will be killed."  
  
"What do you imply?"  
  
The Cloaked Figure paused, and Voldemort assumed his lips had turned to a grin behind his hood. "That Harry Potter is down the path to evil."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"My agent that went after Potter has not reported back. He was killed by Potter," the Cloaked Figure said. To Voldemort, it sounded very hasty, but he didn't dare say anything. He wasn't in the mood to be Crucioed again anytime soon.  
  
"Potter will make a powerful Dark Wizard," Voldemort said, just to agree a little with his superior.  
  
"I do not believe Potter will turn however. You must face him. It is in his character to feel remorse for death."  
  
"As did I," Voldemort said, remembering his Hogwarts childhood.  
  
"Yet you overcame this weakness."  
  
"Which Potter won't?"  
  
"No, I do not think he will," the Cloaked Figure said. Voldemort knew that anything this man said could be a lie. He was always shifting his purpose, spreading dissent and deceit everywhere he went.  
  
"Harry Potter seems to hold the key to all," Voldemort said.  
  
"Not true. That person is _me_," the Cloaked Figure replied smugly. "Harry Potter is but a pawn in the larger picture."

"You originally weren't intended to come," Remus was explaining to Harry as they walked through St. Mungo's. "But when the Order heard you were at Hogwarts we decided you should be brought along."  
  
"Why wasn't I intended to come?" Harry asked. There were very rare times when Remus looked uncomfortable around Harry. This was one of those times.  
  
"Well I would think you could figure it out, but- erm ... you see-,"  
  
"Don't worry," Harry said. "I understand." He knew perfectly well what Remus was getting at. They just assumed he wouldn't want to come in something as aggressive as an ambush.  
  
"Do you mind if I ask a question Harry?"  
  
"Shoot," Harry said smiling.  
  
Remus took a moment to gather his thoughts, "I've wondered how people can be so ruthlessly cruel, and then I wonder how people can be so terribly timid," he trailed off again.  
  
Harry smiled, "You wonder how I don't want to fight in aggressive situations, yet I'm constantly defensive."  
  
Lupin nodded.  
  
"If we are to be the aggressors in this war, how will we be any better than Voldemort?" he said simply.  
  
"If we don't _do_ something Harry we'll lose!" Lupin replied assuredly.  
  
"But what then Remus? What will be become?"  
  
"Victorious."  
  
"I just had this conversation with Hermione," Harry said quietly. "Balance is needed."  
  
"How do you feel about this then?" Remus asked quickly.  
  
"I hate it," Harry said simply. "It is just so blatantly aggressive."  
  
"Then why are you here?"  
  
"To help protect."  
  
"Who are you protecting Harry; us or you?"  
  
Harry was silent. Of course, he was protecting himself, but not for the reasons everyone thought. One of his best friends was dead, and the other was a widow. It all happened in the last few days. Harry could feel the hate swelling but he kept it down. The key was to ignore it.  
  
"You," Harry said quietly.  
  
"I'm sorry Harry," Remus said as his face softened. "That was unfair."  
  
"Yeah I know," Harry said dryly. It was a dark sense of humor he seemed to have picked up somewhere.  
  
"So you really feel what you're doing is right?" Remus asked finally.  
  
"It's my way of balance. Technically, I'm on the defensive here."  
  
"So you will not stun a Death Eater if he is not being an immediate danger to us?" Remus asked surprised.  
  
"No," Harry replied simply. "I didn't while protecting Hermione and R-," but he could not bring himself to say Ron's name.  
  
Remus opened his mouth to say that Harry had certainly been aggressive _there_, but he knew the subject was too sensitive now.  
  
Harry decided not to tiptoe around it. "I killed people in raw emotion there Remus. I would not have had I been in the right mind."  
  
"So you won't kill Voldemort without raw emotion?" Remus asked.  
  
Harry sighed and shut his eyes. It was the problem he had been facing for months and he still had not reached a compromise. "I don't know Remus! I just don't know."  
  
Lupin was silent a moment. Then he said, "These are the dilemmas going on inside your head?"  
  
Harry nodded as he smiled.  
  
"I'm glad I'm not you," he said as a joke and then laughed slightly.  
  
Harry's eyes went dark and he thought about his life. "Believe me Remus; I'd change in a second."  
  
Remus looked shocked and then disapproval etched his features. "Where has James's son gone?"  
  
Harry looked darkly out at the window, "He died a long time ago."

As Harry passed along the corridors of the rooms, his mind again began to drift towards his problems. Harry looked at his hands. He was a murderer, plain and simple. How could he have let this happen?  
  
Harry looked at the floor, "But you've always known you would be one," he thought. Ever since fifth-year, that was true. Did killing some make it easier to kill Voldemort now?  
  
Harry did not think so. After all, killing someone in a blind rage was different from killing otherwise. However, as Harry himself had said, killing was killing, and no matter how it was done, it was terrible.  
  
Harry sighed. His conversation with Remus had not helped much either. As far as he could tell, Remus was disappointed in him. He was acting less like his father than he thought. Harry sighed and fell to the floor.  
  
It wasn't that he was scared of battle or anything. He just had a terrible dark thought about _after_ killing Voldemort. Would he become evil just like his victim?  
  
"Damn it!" Harry yelled. He had just had these thoughts and came to the same conclusion! Why did he have to relive it over and over again? He had swore loudly enough for people to hear him. Perhaps because of who was though, they just passed by and pretended not to notice.  
  
He got up and started to stir. His head hurt from the thoughts and he resolved that he would not think about it for now. His head was still whirling when Dumbledore came up. "They're here," he said simply. He turned on his heel and walked away.

The first floor was nice and cool, but seeing as nobody knew from which direction the Death Eaters would come, they had stations on all floors. Harry crouched behind his statue as he peered out at the surroundings. A bright light flashed down on them. It was the signal that the Death Eaters were on the above floors.  
  
Everybody flashed out and streaked to the stairs. It happened in the blink of an eye, but Harry saw a red jet of light streak across the room and hit the wall. He heard a curse and saw a dozen or so hooded men with masks on come out from the shadows. It appeared the ambushers were being ambushed.  
  
"Look out," Harry yelled, but they were. His fellow wizards definitely were defending themselves properly. Harry saw a red beam come at him from a corner of the room he had not seen.  
  
"_Protego!_" he said in a flash. The red bounced back as it was inches from his wand. Harry sighed; he was lucky that he hadn't just been stunned. He was _very_ lucky because the light hit the Death Eater from whom it came.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kinglsey Shacklebolt come bounding down the stairs. He huffed and said, "Rotten scum. They held Dumbledore hostage and demanded we send the signal down. We had no choice but to do it."  
  
"That explains it," Harry thought. He probably was not the only one who thought that however.  
  
"Dumbledore's okay though." Kingsley assured several of the Order Members who were looking apprehensive. Harry felt a twinge of guilt. With the way he felt about Dumbledore lately, he hadn't even thought about Dumbledore held hostage. Harry wondered how _that_ had actually happened. Dumbledore had proven he could probably kill all of Britain in a flash if he wanted to.  
  
Hosts more Order members bounded down the steps, helping in the battle. Harry sighed. It seemed like he disagreed with everything that was going on today. Sometimes, he felt like he disagreed with the world.

It was happening to quick for him, Harry thought. He had been true to his word during this battle, protective, and not doing any more damage than he had to. The fifteen Death Eaters had been surprised to find, not hundreds of Muggle-Born patients here, but several Order members. Harry did not dare even think to use his wand for anything other than protection. Right now, he was too off-balance, and he didn't know how he would react.  
  
"_Stupefy_!" he shouted, as he saw a Death Eater about to attack Tonks from behind. The blast sent the Death Eater off his feet and into a wall on his left. Harry swiftly picked up the Death Eater's wand and snapped it.  
  
"Harry we've got to go to the fifth floor," Tonks said loudly. She sprinted off for the nearest set of stairs.  
  
"Why?" Harry asked as they climbed them up, two at a time.  
  
"We need to-," Tonks started to say, but just then a Death Eater charged down the steps. He was surprised to see them there, because he did not have his wand out.  
  
"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry shouted, being too quick for the Death Eater. The wand landed in his hand. Tonks had already advanced on the Death Eater and knocked him on the side of the head a small pipe she found. The Death Eater was out cold.  
  
"Part of Auror training," she said, as Harry snapped the wand.  
  
"So what's going on up there?"  
  
"Lupin and Dung are trapped," Harry sighed. He and Remus had been separated after their conversation.  
  
Harry exploded out the door to find the Death Eaters above Remus and Mundungus pointing their wands. They had gags around their mouths and bounds on their arms. Harry sent a stunning spell at one of them, knocking him out, while he saw Tonks deftly disarm the other. After the wands were sufficiently broken, Harry sprinted towards Remus. Remus tried to grunt, but Harry took his gag out. He saw something tall emerge from the corner of his eye, oh his left.  
  
Remus could finally say what he tried to say and it was one word, "Trap!" Something clicked into place, and Harry dove backward as a green light came whizzing past his nose. It exploded on the far sidewall. Harry, knowing whom it was, turned to face the figure, cloaked, and walking towards him. He gulped.  
  
It looked like he would have to be the aggressor sooner than he expected, as Lord Voldemort drew back his cloak, revealing a chalk white face that sneered at him. Something told Harry, that he was about to die. 


	7. The Not Quite Final Battle

**_Chapter 7 – The (Not Quite) Final Battle_**  
  
Harry stood to face Voldemort, trying his best not to shake. How could this be happening now? For weeks he had been going on about this dilemma and he still hadn't settled his mind. One thing was for sure though, he had to try to survive. That was easier said than done.  
  
"Harry Potter. We meet again," Voldemort said hissing slightly.  
  
"Seems to happen a lot," Harry said unsteadily, trying to appear confident.  
  
"Yes," Voldemort hissed. He raised his wand. Harry's head spun. Where was Dumbledore? He knew he couldn't just sit and wait. He had to _try_ to fight. He just hoped he could last long enough without being killed.  
  
He shook his head, trying to calm down, "What am I going to do now?" Voldemort was always terrifying, even though Harry had seen him many times (what was the count up to now?) Harry knew he could only do one thing. He raised his wand. He could only protect.  
  
"Let's start you off with a little pain shall we?" Voldemort asked, sneering.  
  
"Leave him alone!" Harry heard Remus say.  
  
"Well what do we have here? Potter Senior's best friend eh? How was it that we never met? I knew him quite well, besides that little unpleasantness before he died," Voldemort laughed. Even his laugh was terrifying. It sent shivers into every living thing within earshot. Harry felt rage boiling up inside him.  
  
"What, killing him?" Harry asked incredulously. He told himself to keep the rage down.  
  
"That's right," Voldemort said, still chuckling.  
  
"Why you dirty little-," Remus started to say. Voldemort turned his wand to face Remus. Harry sensing an opening, raised his wand.  
  
Voldemort tsked. "I wouldn't do that Harry. I _will_ murder your friend." Harry kept his wand on pointing towards Voldemort. It wavered slightly moving with Harry's hand. No, he could not do this now. He would face Voldemort when it was just him and Harry. Harry didn't want his friends involved.  
  
He finally lowered his wand and, glaring at Voldemort, threw it down. It bounced off the floor and came to a rolling stop in front of Voldemort.  
  
"That's a good lad Harry," Voldemort sneered. "How about the rest of you?"  
  
Tonks and Mundungus looked at each other, then at Harry. He nodded, and he had a feeling they understood what he wanted. He did not want the final battle now. They threw their wands towards Voldemort. _That_ would come at a later time. "Very good," he hissed. "You made it clear to me that you _do_ have intelligence."  
  
"Oh yes, I'm very smart," Tonks said sarcastically.  
  
"Shut up!" Voldemort hissed. Still watching Harry, with his wand pointed at Remus, he shouted, "_Crucio_!"  
  
Remus slumped down and screamed. Harry looked away, but could not end the sound. He ground his teeth together in pain. No, he had to watch Voldemort! He didn't want to be surprise attacked. He turned his head to face Voldemort and twisted his face into what he hoped was a defiant face. "Don't worry Harry. You won't be able to see his pain for much longer."  
  
Harry cringed, but did not look away. He couldn't. Those traitorous eyes would murder him. "Stop!" he screamed.  
  
"Would you rather I did it on you?" Voldemort asked, his eyes bulging slightly.  
  
"No Harry!" Remus screamed. "You're more important!"  
  
"What good is it if I won't kill him anyways!" Harry retorted. He bit his tongue. That wasn't smart. Voldemort looked at Harry strangely.  
  
"So little baby Potter has morals after all," he sneered. "Potter, you will find that there is no excuse for such frivolous-," but Harry interrupted him sharply.  
  
"Excuse me, I _am_ twenty-three years old," Harry replied, "and I'm not going to be swayed that easily."  
  
Voldemort hissed in anger. Harry shivered; it sounded so much like a snake.  
  
Remus sighed. Voldemort turned towards Harry and raised his wand, but was cut off by Remus saying, "What's the matter Voldie? Afraid to pick on someone your own size. Than again, I don't think anyone in here is as tall as you."  
  
Voldemort shrugged off the insult. "You don't get it do you?" Remus shouted. "Then it must be intelligence. Picking on someone dumber than you!" he shot Harry an apologetic glance. Harry nodded in understanding, even though he did not like what Remus was doing.  
  
"Have it your way then," Voldemort said simply. He pointed his wand back at Remus. Remus stared definatly at him. "_Avada K-,_" but he never got the chance.  
  
Harry screamed a booming, **_"NO!"_** and charged at Voldemort. Voldemort finished the spell, but turned to face Harry, the wand now pointed at him. Harry heard a rushing sound as the spell, meant for Remus, came out of Voldemort's wand and hit Harry squarely in the chest. He flew back into the wall and slumped forward, face down.  
  
Voldemort hissed triumphantly, "Easier than I thought,"

"As for the rest of you," Voldemort said pointing his wand in a semi-circle at them, "I hope you live in peace in the afterlife."  
  
Remus gulped. It was probably better this way. Voldemort would take over the Earth, and he did not want to be around to see _that_.  
  
"They won't be in the afterlife for a long time Voldemort," said a voice near the wall. Everyone stared. Harry was getting up, and dusting off the bits of drywall on his robes.  
  
He got up. "Why aren't you dead?" Voldemort asked terrified. There was something in his eyes then, Harry noticed. It was almost as if Voldemort had lost his only weapon, but Voldemort had more power than simply _Avada Kedavra_ didn't he? He was uncertain and Harry felt sure that he could exploit that.  
  
Harry grinned, "I'm like a cockroach. You can't kill me," as he deliberately goading  
  
"This isn't right at all! You are supposed to be dead! Why aren't you?"  
  
"Like I'm gonna tell you our best weapon," Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't think so."  
  
Voldemort looked around fearfully. He weighed the odds against him. He couldn't continue to kill Potter unless he knew how. Right now, he did not now how. "_I'm in danger,_" he thought suddenly. "_I'm defenseless against them!_"  
  
He knew what he had to do. As much as he hated doing it, he had to. He disapparated with _crack!_

"So _why_ aren't you dead Harry?" Remus asked.  
  
Harry shrugged his shoulders as if not dying when he was supposed to die was not scary. Remus looked at him funny. Harry knew why. Remus was thinking that Harry had actually wanted to die.  
  
"I _am_ glad I'm alive Remus," Harry said shortly, with a laugh. "I'm not suicidal yet. So why aren't I dead?"  
  
"You don't know?"  
  
"Nope," he said simply. "Why then, Remus?"  
  
"Couldn't tell you," Remus said quite as simply as Harry had.  
  
"What's going on?" a voice asked to their left side fearfully.  
  
"Dumbledore!" Harry said amazed. He was a few minutes late. Harry forgot his worries about Dumbledore and wished Dumbledore had come sooner.  
  
"What happened?" he asked again fearfully when he saw the bindings, gags, and holes in the wall.  
  
Harry looked at Remus, who looked back. They both started talking at the same time.  
  
Dumbledore laughed, which broke the tension. "One at a time please. I'm sure you are both anxious to show your narration skills off, but please,_one at a time_."  
  
"If I _do_ remember correctly, Mr. Potter here never really did show any aptitude at narration."  
  
Harry smiled, completely forgetting about Voldemort. "Do you _ever_ remember incorrectly?"  
  
"No of course not," she said stiffly.  
  
"Someone tell me what happened," Dumbledore commanded again, all levity gone, now with a note of urgency.  
  
With a sigh, Harry recounted what had happened, and felt the weight of the world pressing down on him.

"Harry, I'm impressed. Again." Remus said smiling. "I didn't believe it when I heard about your 'balance point' but you handled that without aggression." Harry smiled, but did not believe Remus's words.  
  
Voldemort was evil. Harry had to fight him. Just confronting him again had waken him up to that fact.  
  
"I've come to a decision though Remus," Harry said slowly. "I must seek Voldemort out." Remus was quiet. When he did not respond, Harry returned to his thoughts. He realized that he had made a decision during the battle. He had to fight Voldemort, and seek him out. It wasn't that his 'balance' had been trashed, but he wanted to. He wanted to be rid of this burden and rid of Voldemort.  
  
Deep down, Harry knew, he really wanted to kill Voldemort in vengeance, but he couldn't think about that. He would kill Voldemort because it was the _right_ thing to do. Dumbledore had been right. He couldn't have a personal dilemma when it was his time to live up to the responsibilities he was born with.  
  
"And I'm glad of it Harry," came Dumbledore's voice. His eyes twinkled, "I knew you just needed an extra helping hand." And there was Dumbledore, the kindly old wizard Harry was used to seeing. It felt him with such a happiness, that even Voldemort could not take away.

His happiness was short lived however. When he got back to Hogwarts he found himself in a huge hug by Hermione. Harry's heart ached for her, wishing he could accept the grief for both of them, but that couldn't be done.  
  
"Harry, we need to accept the grief," she said strongly, through tears, "only then will we be able to move on."  
  
Harry nodded in understanding, not prepared for the moment when he would have to face the Weasley parents and siblings. Apparently, they were coming in in two days, when the funeral would be. He couldn't imagine the Burrow was a happy place to be right now.  
  
"He died a hero," Harry said to Hermione, who nodded. Deep inside though, Harry knew Ron hadn't died a hero, he had just been unconscious, but he _was_ a hero on so many other occasions.  
  
They talked about different times they had had with Ron, laughing at the memories, as grieving friends do, but it could never stop the pain. Nothing ever would, Harry knew. He had experienced death many times in his life. Cedric, Sirius, and now Ron? How could he live with that?  
  
"Harry about the train," Hermione began, but Harry didn't give her a chance.  
  
"I'm sorry I scared you," Harry said smiling.  
  
"Please Harry," she pleaded, "don't let that happen again. That wasn't the only time you've scared me."  
  
"Don't worry," Harry replied, stung by the words, "I've finally come to a decision. You won't like it, but it has to be done."  
  
"You're going to go after Voldemort," she finished, starting to sob some more. "Don't Harry, please don't. Just run! Run away!"  
  
"Hermione," he said gently. "I have to fight him. It's my burdon. Nobody else can do it!"  
  
"You scare me Harry. What happens when you're a murderer?" she gasped when she said it.  
  
Harry's eyes darkened. He had to keep his mind off that terrible day when so much bad had happened. "I already am."

"You fool! The Cloaked Figure said. "You must know that you cannot do curses on family members!"  
  
"Family members?" Potter was related to him.  
  
"You and Potter have the same blood you idiot! Of course the magic thinks you're family!"  
  
"So no curses will work on him?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"So when I returned in his Fourth Year, even if I had hit Potter, it wouldn't have done anything?"  
  
"No!" the Cloaked Figure said again.  
  
"Are you telling me-,"  
  
The Cloaked Figure hissed impatiently, "Voldemort! NO!"  
  
"So how do I kill him."  
  
"You have a brain, use it."  
  
Something struck in Voldemort then, "What did _you_ do while I didn't have a body?"  
  
"I waited for you to figure out how to return. I knew you would."  
  
"Why?"  
  
The Cloaked Figure used his own phrase again, "You had a brain. I would've thought you could've used it."  
  
"Besides, _this_," the Cloaked Figure withdrew the same jewel he had threatened Voldemort with, "was still intact."  
  
Not the jewel again! He was scared of _Vivificus Auctorita_.  
  
"Our darkest hour," Voldemort said, remembering those days.  
  
"_Your_ darkest hour," the Cloaked Figure corrected. "_I_ keep the balance." 


	8. Starting Point

**_Chapter 8 - Starting Point_**  
  
"Forgive me My Lord!" Voldemort pleaded, hating ever second of this. His body was burning, and he was ashamed. He knew the Figure wouldn't kill him, but he wanted the pain to stop.  
  
Finally, the actual pain receded, but Voldemort felt the aftereffects of being hit with the Cruciatus Curse.  
  
"It seems harsh Voldemort, but you deserve it," The Cloaked Figure raised his wand threateningly. "I'm sure you agree."  
  
Voldemort looked at the ground, but still nodded his head. It was humiliating and degrading, but he did it. Oh how he hated the man who was doing it.  
  
The Cloaked Figure whispered, "You don't like it when it's done to you, do you?" Voldemort didn't respond, but tried to get up, and failed. He felt his legs twitching. "You hate me don't you?"  
  
Voldemort looked at the man above him with no face, but didn't say anything. He just stared back. Of course he hated him, but he wasn't about to say it. He wasn't about to deny it either.  
  
"So it's a contest of pain you want do you? Come Voldemort, let me show you a lesson." He swished his wand and all of the pain of the Cruciatus Curse was gone from Voldemort's body. He got up and faced the Cloaked Figure.  
  
"Say _demorar_ to stop." Voldemort did not know what he was talking about, but figure he would understand soon enough.  
  
The Cloaked Figure stuck his wand in the ground and said, "_Crucio Multitudo_!" Two red beams shot out at the Cloaked Figure and Voldemort. Voldemort screamed, but the Cloaked Figure was silent. Voldemort understood. It was a contest on who could last the longest.  
  
On and on it went. One minute, then two, then five. The Cloaked Figure started screaming then, but Voldemort stopped. His mouth was too hoarse. He tried to ignore the stabbing pains in his back, but couldn't block them out. He imagined fiery hot needles drilling into him, but he couldn't stop the pain.  
  
Voldemort lost track of time. His brain couldn't handle this. But he couldn't give up. He couldn't give the Cloaked Figure the justice of winning. Finally he couldn't help it; he screamed.  
  
Nobody could hear there calls for help or their screams; they were secluded. His brain felt like it would explode. Surely nobody had ever lasted this long.  
  
"Don't give up," Voldemort thought. "Don't...give...him...the pleasure of...beating me." He opened his eyes and saw that he was rolling around uncontrollably.  
  
Voldemort finally spoke through his screams, "I can't...give...up...arghh! _Demorar!_"  
  
The pain receded and his head came back. The Cloaked Figure got up. He sneered, "That is only as long as you could last?" He kicked Voldemort. "You didn't stand a chance. Fifteen minutes! Ha!"  
  
Voldemort didn't listen or care. He just rolled over. "Voldemort you must know that pain will come, and you must deal with it."  
  
Voldemort gasped, "Why are...you doing...this?"  
  
The Cloaked Figure replied, "Because you deserve it my pawn."

"Are you ready?" Harry asked Hermione, laying his arm around her. She looked at him and sighed determinedly.  
  
"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied, "for this." Harry admired her, even more so than he had at Hogwarts. She was going to her husband's and former best-friend's funeral. Harry ground his teeth, a habit he seemed to have picked up, when he thought about how hard it must be for her to do this. After all, she was only married to Ron for two days.  
  
Hermione looked at him, and gave him a face that was equivalent to 'stop feeling sorry for me.' Harry knew that look; he had given it plenty of times in his life.  
  
Together, resolutely, they walked out of the preparation huts and into the courtyard that the memorial would be. It was really touching to see all these people here to see Ron, Harry concluded.  
  
Grim-faced, but still defiant, he and Hermione took their seats in the front, as the other guests walked watched them with respect in their eyes. Harry looked around at all the people here, people whom Ron, Hermione, and Harry had touched somewhere in their lives.  
  
"This feels so weird," Harry whispered to Hermione.  
  
She glared at him and snapped, "This is awful!" Harry looked away, his face going red. He really didn't do anything wrong, and he forgave Hermione just this once. He saved her from having to deal with a retort.  
  
They waited for the service to begin and looked grim-faced at the podium up front. Harry looked at her, "No you're right, this is awful." He hoped that would ease the tension, but Hermione glared at him. He took it lightly though, and pretended not to notice. He remembered how he felt during Sirius's memorial. He imagined that had not been fun for either Ron or Hermione.  
  
He glanced sidelong at Mr. Weasley who was walking up to the front. He had tear-stained eyes and a tired expression, but he had the same look as Hermione and Harry.  
  
"We gather here today, to honor Ron Weasley," he began, "my beloved son, best-friend to Harry Potter, and husband to Hermione Granger." He looked gravely in their direction and tried to give a smile of encouragement. "To those of you who knew him personally, you'll know that he was a friend, eager to help out in any situation, a great chess player even if he was a little jealous at some times. Oh yes, and if you tried to show him anything with eight legs, he would probably run away from you." Harry laughed amid the welling tears and lump he was starting to feel. "I think we can thank one of my sons for that; I forget which one." Harry and Hermione laughed together. How Mr. Weasley could add anything funny to this was amazing, yet he could.  
  
But that was what it was supposed to be about, Harry knew. It was supposed to be about remembering Ron as the fun person he was. Harry listened intently as Mr. Weasley talked about the summers when Harry and Hermione would spend the night, and when the family went to Egypt.  
  
When Mr. Weasley stepped down, Dumbledore, who had been listening intently, stood up. He walked up and took out his wand. Being in the first row, Harry heard him say,  
"_Sonorous_" quietly to his wand and begin speaking.  
  
"I will never forget Ronald Weasley." He began. "As you heard, he was a friend of Harry and Hermione, whom you both know as his best friends. But they were more than that. They gave emotional strength to each other and never once did they regret that. They occasionally forgot that during the adolescent tension years," everyone laughed, "but they never regretted it." Harry heard Hermione sob, but her eyes were shining.  
  
"They went to school with pride and they had a light that could never be turned off, and a curiosity that could never be satisfied," he added heavily as though it were important.  
  
"Those qualities my friends, I believe to be among the highest anyone can give to someone. Therefore it is fitting that I end here." He stepped down. Harry looked around, seeing who was going next. His heart melted as he saw Hermione take the podium.  
  
She sobbed. "Ron was my best friend and lover. We had...the greatest times together. As most of you will agree, our wedding was awesome." She swallowed the lump in her throat, but her eyes were glistening and Harry knew she was fighting tears.  
  
"Oh my god this is hard," she said looking down, trying to compose herself.  
  
Harry's heart turned to steel. He thought of those evil red eyes that did it. In that moment he wanted to kill Voldemort so badly that he would have done anything to do it.  
  
Hermione had regained her composure, snapping Harry out of his trance. "He was killed by Voldemort," she said, drawing gasps from the crowd. "He was killed by a menace that we are all trying to face down, and I believe we will. Voldemort thought it would be an easy fight, but he thought wrong.  
  
"Ron has died. Sirius Black, Harry's godfather has died. Cedric Diggory has died, among countless others who died fighting Voldemort. They were fighting the good fight and so should we."  
  
"As I say, many of our loved ones have died upholding justice, my husband among them who I was only married to for a day! Yet we are still fighting! Why? Because we know that he will take over the world if we don't! Destroying our homes and possessions we worked so hard to get! Keep fighting and hoping! If you are too tired, then run away, and fight some more! Do not give into despair. That will only lead to disaster. As long as we have confidence to win, _we will prevail_. By all that you hold dear, know that we will prevail and this is a promise I will keep." She walked down and off the podium, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, when Harry stood up and started clapping, followed soundly by Dumbledore.  
  
Soon enough, Hermione got a standing ovation and was thinking about Ron hardly noticing. She smiled amid her tears, and then sat down. She looked at Harry and mouthed a "Thank you." Harry smiled back. His meaning was clear: _What are friends for?_ Harry tossed and turned in his sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about Hermione's words; they were haunting him! He had felt so sorry for her up there, but also proud. She had done what heroes were expected to do in situations such as these: inspire.  
  
Those pitiless red eyes were staring at him, wishing him to die, but Harry wouldn't. He vowed that he would see Voldemort die in front of his eyes before he gave up his strength.  
  
He walked outside getting a fervor to do _something_. His eyes were cruel, he knew, but he just felt such hate right now. Voldemort had taken what was his and what was his best friends. He had done murder. Harry didn't care about morals anymore because such things get tossed aside when you are out for revenge.  
  
He found what he was looking for, scuttling among the leaves. "Hello Mr. Beatle," Harry said, tormenting the poor thing. He looked at it, and concentrated all his hate into this one curse!  
  
"_Avada Kedavra,_" he whispered. The Beatle started twitching, but righted itself again and scuttled off.  
  
A voice to his right scared him half to death. "Learning how to fulfill your destiny Potter?"  
  
Harry turned quickly and saw a figure who had a gigantic robe around himself approaching Harry.  
  
"Who are you?" Came Harry's clichéd question. Harry didn't worry about that much in situations such as these; these being strange Cloaked Figures coming towards him.  
  
"I will be your Master," he said, "for a little while at least."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"We want the same thing Harry. We want Voldemort dead."  
  
"Something tells me I should run right about now," Harry said smiling.  
  
"Then why don't you?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Curiosity, I suppose."  
  
"No Harry. You want to kill Voldemort, and I can teach you how."  
  
"How do I know that?" Harry asked, although he knew perfectly well why.  
  
"I cannot give you proof, only the sincerity of my heart."  
  
"I didn't want to kill Voldemort before," Harry said, seemingly confiding in the stranger.  
  
"Yes I know, but you want to _now_." Harry nodded and sighed.  
  
"It is your duty," the Cloaked Figure responded, "and you do not care now, about the means you use to accomplish that."  
  
"Yes I do, I mean, I don't want to kill Voldemort and become evil!" Harry protested. He did not know why he was telling this to the man, but he felt strangely calm around him. It was almost as if he didn't care.  
  
"I hate Voldemort. Obviously you do to."  
  
"No I don't Harry, I just keep the balance." 


	9. Dark or Necessary?

_**Part 3 – The Growing Darkness**  
_  
**_Chapter 9 – Dark or Necessary?_**  
  
"You are you doing **what?**" Voldemort yelled in surprise.  
  
"Careful Voldemort," the Cloaked Figure replied, "I still have _Vivificus Auctorita!_."  
  
"Pardon me, My Lord, but you shocked me! Just tell me what we can _gain_ from this."  
  
The Cloaked Figure watched Voldemort from behind his hood. "Do you actually expect me to teach him _how_ to kill you?" He laughed a cold laugh. "No Voldemort. Wrong information goes a long way."  
  
Voldemort shook his head. He did not know this man's intentions anymore. Now it seemed that _everyone_ wanted to benefit from this conflict, yet he could not put his finger on what this man wanted. He and Harry Potter really were truly, pawns. "Yes, My Lord."  
  
"Remember Voldemort, I have the best intentions in mind."  
  
"For me or the world?" Voldemort asked. The Cloaked Figure's response would give Voldemort lots of information."  
  
"For the world. I keep the balance."  
  
"Yes, how could I forget that," Voldemort mumbled. The Cloaked Figure whipped out the green crystal from beneath his cloak. He held it aloft for a moment, and then Voldemort, realizing what he was about to do, lunged forward. The crystal dropped, and took an age to fall. It shattered into a million pieces.  
  
"You really think I wouldn't use such leverage? Do you really think you are worth that much?" The Cloaked Figure hissed. "Voldemort, as this proves, I don't need you." Voldemort did not look up. His life was ruined and he was not about to humor the Cloaked Figure.  
  
"Remember, when the time comes, the next one will not be a fake." Voldemort looked up in surprise. The old bastard was just kidding (to put it lightly), but Voldemort didn't feel grateful. He just felt hate for the man who had a thousand powers above his head.

"Very good Harry; very good indeed." Harry panted, leaning over trying to get his breath.  
  
"That's two seconds faster than yesterday, but Voldemort is much quicker to the draw than you are. So, let's practice. Draw when I say so." Harry readied himself and got ready for when the Cloaked Figure would say:  
  
"DRAW!" Harry's arm exploded into his back pocket. He whipped the wand out, aimed, and sent a disarming charm at the Cloaked Figure. The Cloaked Figure blocked the spell easily, but that didn't stop his from tsking.  
  
"You need to be faster," he prompted. "Think ahead about where you want to aim."  
  
Harry tried again, and this time, he did not aim in a separate motion. "Good," the Cloaked Figure approved, "you are learning fluidity. However, you need to have a passion. Use every muscle possible."  
  
"Ready?" Harry nodded. He waited for the signal.  
  
"NOW!" Harry tried to use every muscle, but it was hard. It wasn't like you could just think about using your bicep. Nevertheless, the draw had been quicker, and the Cloaked Figure applauded.  
  
"Very good! Let us try it one more time." This time, Harry was not as quick, but the Cloaked Figure merely nodded. "You'll get better at it," he replied, sensing Harry's frustration. "Go now. Tonight we are done." Harry said goodbye and walked back towards his apartment. He wondered what kind of alibi he could put up tonight.

"Hermione I swear, I was just at the Pub thinking things over." Hermione looked at him with a suspect expression on her face. Then she finally relented and nodded.  
  
She had caught him coming up the hill. She was looking for him because she was curious to see just what it _was_ that he was doing every night. Harry turned to leave before she said, "Harry how do you feel about Ron?" Harry looked at her confused.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, do you still feel grief?" she asked. Harry opened his mouth in surprise, but she cut him off. "I'm just hoping I'm not overreacting is all."  
  
Harry didn't say anything for a moment, just stood there open-mouthed. "How can you even-,"  
  
"I know, I know," she sobbed, but Harry was still saying, "How can you even-, I mean-, he was your husband. If you didn't still be grieving, I'd be worried!" Hermione blushed, but said nothing.  
  
Harry continued his rant. "I mean sure, there has been some stupid things, but-," but she looked him straight in the eye. "Death causes people to do stupid things." At her words, Harry looked away and winced. She was talking about him he knew.  
  
"Harry-," she started to apologize.  
  
"Stay away from it Hermione," Harry snapped, not in the mood for an apology.  
  
"Look-," she began.  
  
"No!" Harry said, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. His mind was troubled, and Harry knew that he was, himself, troubled. Ron's words echoed back in Harry's mind:  
  
_...believe me, something is _always_ up with you..._  
  
How true that was. Harry reflected back to fifth year where he heard the Prophecy for the first time. It was then that he had come to realize he was always a marked man. However, he didn't feel guilty about his training. Finally, his path was clear, and he knew that it was his _duty_ to kill Voldemort.

The training went by, as usual, until the Cloaked Figure had an interesting lesson for him one day. "Harry, do you know Voldemort's greatest weapon that he can use on you?"  
  
Harry thought about it. "_Avada Kedavra_?" he asked. "But he can't do that on me can he?"  
  
"No he cannot," the obvious response came.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well Harry, you and Voldemort share the same blood," his teacher started, "Between every witch and wizard is a blood-link that connects those wizards together. Seeing as you two have the same blood, you also share this connection. Wizards with this connection cannot harm each other by magic; it is forbidden under the old law."  
  
Harry took this information and nodded. It made sense did it not?"  
  
"So anyways, back to my question."  
  
"I would say then, the Cruciatus Curse."  
  
"Precisely," was the response.  
  
"So how do I defend _Crucio_?" Harry asked, intrigued.  
  
"_Crucio,_ like _Avada Kedavra_ cannot be blocked or shielded. To fight it, it has to be mental."  
  
"How?"  
  
"I'm getting to that," the Cloaked Figure snapped. "You need to grow accustomed to the pain." Harry winced. "No you're not going to like this at all," the Cloaked Figure sneered slightly.  
  
"So how do I do that?"  
  
"You feel the pain, every second of every day, and you will be able to last longer. You will never hold out forever, I 'm afraid, but you can go for several minutes I believe. The longest ever recorded was thirty-three. _I_ still hold that record. Unofficially of course. Nobody knows I exist do they?" he laughed.  
  
"I expect someone does," Harry replied, not thinking. "Dumbledore, probably does."  
  
The Cloaked Figure went strangely quiet, and nodded. "Yes, he probably does. Let's begin then."  
  
Harry nodded, bracing himself. He felt himself be silenced with a curse, and then heard the dreaded words, "_Crucio_!"

"Hermione really, nothing is going on!" Harry protested. Hermione scoffed and walked to his other side.  
  
"You're shaking," she commented truthfully.  
  
"There was a barfight," Harry lied quickly, "and there was blood everywhere."  
  
"M-hm," Hermione said.  
  
"I'm telling the truth, I swear."  
  
"Harry I know you're lying." The way you shuffled out the other night."  
  
Harry put on a pained expression. "Well what did you expect me to do, take that comment with good-humor? What would you do I said, 'Hey Hermione, I look down on you because you've done murder?'"  
  
"Harry...I don't look down on you."  
  
"Really?" Harry said quietly. "Then why don't you believe me?"  
  
"Because I can tell you're lying!" Harry was silent. Should he tell her or not? She didn't want him to fight because she did not want him to kill.  
  
"Fine. I've been learning to defend myself against Voldemort." Hermione gasped and shook her head.  
  
"This is all too much Harry. I don't care! As long as it is defense," she peered at him, questioningly.  
  
Harry coughed, "Yeah, it is," he said, crossing his fingers.  
  
"See? Why were you afraid to tell me?" Harry felt as though he had been silenced again, because he could not say a word. They walked together in silence for a moment.  
  
"How have you been lately?" he finally asked.  
  
"I'm getting through it," she replied, "you?" Harry didn't say anything because for the first time since he had been training, he had noticed puffiness under her eyes.  
  
When he realized she had asked him a question he sputtered out, "Me-uh...I guess...great!"  
  
She looked at him strangely and then continued walking. Then she noticed something and said, "Look, you're still shaking! What kind of defense is it?"  
  
Harry shrugged, "Maybe I'm just cold I guess." He looked into Hermione's eyes and knew that she did not believe him for a second, but she didn't press the matter.  
  
Thank God he had such wonderful friends.

"Well Harry, it is your last lesson. After that, I'm gone."  
  
Harry looked at him, "I have a feeling we'll meet again." The Cloaked Figure looked like he smirked underneath his hood.  
  
"We will, Harry," he replied, "we will."  
  
"I bet you know what you're going to learn how to do today."  
  
"_Avada Kedavra?_" he guessed. It was pretty obvious.  
  
"Yes," the Cloaked Figure said. "You can do it with raw emotion, but to kill Voldemort, you're going to have to do it in calm." He withdrew a large beetle from his robe and set it on the ground. Harry, knowing what to do, bent down on top of it.  
  
"Your training is complete when it is dead." Harry nodded, and, with some foreboding, said the words. A green light shot out and hit the beetle. It didn't do anything different. As Moody would say, he doubted it had gotten a nosebleed.  
  
"Try again," the Cloaked Figure commanded. Harry did as he was told, to no avail.  
  
"Try this," he said, holding out a rather large bug. Harry set it on the ground, when he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his hand.  
  
"Ouch!" he said, wincing. The bug immediately started to laugh at him. Apparently it was a special type of bug. "Why you little," he started to say, when he finished with, "_Avada Kedavra._" The bug dropped dead. Harry looked up and the Cloaked Figure nodded.  
  
"You see, it only requires a little aggravation to work properly. That's probably different than what your teachers taught you." Harry nodded. Moody, or Barty Crouch Jr, had told them that _Avada Kedavra_, 'needed a bit of powerful magic behind it.'  
  
"Focus on everything that you hate Harry. Focus on someone you absolutely loath. Professor Snape might do well." Harry grinned and tried again. This time, the bug rolled over, but was not dead yet. The Cloaked Figure hit him on the nose, only it wasn't the Cloaked Figure, it was Snape. "Come on Potter you idiot. Don't you think you could give a little _effort_ for once."  
  
Harry looked at him and then knew what he was supposed to do. "_Avada Kedavra_," he roared at the bug, and it fell, completely dead. Snape had transformed back into an actually _good_, in Harry's mind, teacher.  
  
"That is it Mr. Potter. Until our next meeting, let me say good luck with Voldemort." Harry nodded and smiled. He didn't particularly like the mysterious man, but he could show a little gratitude. He just hoped that he was doing the right thing.

"Harry, I'm going to finally find out what you've been doing," Hermione said with glee and snatched his wand.  
  
"What the-, Hermione!" Harry called as he chased her up the hill. What in the hell did he think she was doing? He raced up and almost caught her when she ran into her apartment and clicked the lock. He could have easily done _Alohomora_, but he didn't have his wand.  
  
What was she doing in there? He pressed his ear to the door and heard he mutter and single spell, "_Prior Incantato_."  
  
"No!" Harry thought. That was not good!  
  
A minute later, she slowly opened the door, and Harry saw that she was rather pale. Tears were welling in her eyes as she threw his wand back at him.  
  
"Hermione-," Harry started to say, but the door was swiftly shut in his face. 


	10. Attack Velocity

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter  
  
**_Chapter 10 – Attack Velocity_**  
  
"So Harry Potter can now do _Avada Kedvra_?" Voldemort asked disbelievingly. It did not surprise him. Contrary to what most of his Death Eaters thought, he actually had a great deal of respect for Harry Potter. He _was_ James' son after all!  
  
"Yes he can," the Cloaked Figure said simply, "as well as throw off Crucio for several seconds."  
  
"Why would you teach him these things?" Voldemort asked, unable to comprehend this man's...arrogance.  
  
"Voldemort, he is powerful, but it doesn't matter. None of these things will help him. _He can't hurt you_."  
  
Voldemort fell silent. It made sense of course, teaching Harry these things that would never work on him. It might just throw Potter off guard after all. Whatever the intentions of the Cloaked Figure were, he was helping Voldemort now. That was always good.  
  
"What else do you have to tell me?"  
  
"The attack on Diagon Alley is almost set. We should be there tomorrow," Voldemort replied, thinking about the grand victory they would have.  
  
"Voldemort, do not think to far ahead of yourself. Diagon Alley is an easy target, but the Aurors are watching it like a hawk."  
  
Voldemort smirked, something the Cloaked Figure detested. "The Aurors...will no longer be around to guard it."  
  
"What do you mean? Are you telling me that you sent Death Eaters to attack the Aurors that are guarding Diagon Alley?"  
  
Voldemort nodded in triumph. "If we are successful, ten Aurors will die tonight, including Alastor Moody."  
  
The Cloaked Figure was silent. Voldemort didn't know what he was thinking, but hoped that he wasn't too displeased with this little operation.  
  
"Most clever Voldemort. Even for you."  
  
Voldemort grinned in satisfaction. Finally he was doing something right that pleased this man! It would make it all the easier to manipulate him.  
  
"How many Death Eaters does that leave us in Diagon Alley?"  
  
"Twenty," Voldemort replied. "The rest will try to join after the Aurors are dead. That makes a grand total of about thirty total. If we are lucky."  
  
"Our chances of success our high it seems," the Cloaked Figure noted.  
  
"Which makes the chances of Diagon Alley being destroyed high," Voldemort responded with a hint of pride.

It was quiet and cool underneath these trees. Just over a hill that was high above his target, sat the Death Eater named Jugson. He peered over the ledge, seeing the Auror far below. He was camping out over a fire which he would constantly check into to see what was happening in Diagon Alley.  
  
The wind rustled slightly and slowly Jugson crept downward, his eyes darting greedily at the target. He was about halfway down when he heard a snap. He looked down to see a long stick, now snapped in half, underneath his foot. He looked up in time to see a fireball hurtle above him. He slipped down, narrowly missing it, but feeling its searing heat washing across his face. He jumped down and kicked the bowl of boiling water into the Auror's face.  
  
The Auror cried out in pain, and put his hands over his face. Jugson leapt triumphantly. He aimed his wand at the helpless Auror and whispered, "_Incendio_!"  
  
Jugson smiled at the horrific sight and said, "Try to burn me, I'll burn you right back."

Walden Macnair was having a great day. Today would bring much death and destruction which is something that an executioner, especially a short-fused one such as him, liked. He crept through the doors in the house looking for the target.  
  
He opened the door to the kitchen when he heard an outraged cry behind him, "Get the hell out of my house!"  
  
He turned around slowly. "Nymphadora, what a pleasant surprise."  
  
Tonks looked at him and shoved her wand up his neck. "If you ever call me that, I'll blow your brains out, now what do you want?"  
  
"I've come to kill you," he said without hesitation. Stupid to lie, he told himself.  
  
"Well you seem to have failed," she spat back, seeming unshaken by the news that her life was in danger. She pulled the wand back at pointed towards the door. "Walk that way and I'll stun you."  
  
"Why make me walk?"  
  
"I'll attack you from behind," she replied smugly. "Now drop the wand."  
  
He dropped it obediently and started walking towards the door. In one quick fluid motion he drew a knife from his belt and threw it at Tonks while rolling backwards to avoid her Stunning Curse.  
  
The heard her cry out in pain and saw that the knife had slashed her wand-hand. He picked up his wand and turned to advance on her.

Mulciber looked up at the Auror above him, seeking out possible places to climb from.  
  
"Up the side of the building it will be," he said happily. He looked up and put a stick charm on his hands and feet. "The human spider", he thought to himself.  
  
His target was supposed to be three floors up and to the left. He checked his angle and started to climb. "Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly," he whispered to himself, reciting a poem he had heard as a child.  
  
When he got to the third floor, he quietly cut the window of the building and slipped inside. The Auror _should_ be across the hall. He slipped to the right of the door. Carefully, he opened it burst through. The Auror was so surprised he didn't even raise his wand as Mulciber said, "_Imperio_!"  
  
Now _this_ was why he learned the Imperius Curse in the first place he thought as he directed the Auror to take the leap from the window.  
  
The hateful night crept on.

"Come on Hermione," Harry pleaded, "you knew I was going to have to do it eventually."  
  
Hermione looked at him from the crack of the door. "No I don't care Harry Potter."  
  
"Look," he began shakily, "I thought you'd understand. Hermione, like I told you before, it is _duty_! I have to be the one to kill him."  
  
She sighed, "You know what Harry? You are so contradictory. The other night, before, well before, you know," she blinked back tears that she obviously tried to hide, "you said you couldn't kill him. What's changed Harry?"  
  
Harry looked at the door's crack. "Let me in, will you? It's embarrassing in this hallway." He glanced around and threw her an amused smile. "It feels like I took you on a bad date."  
  
Hermione sighed. "Fine," she said, and clicked the door open.  
  
Harry walked in and tried to look comfortable, but he knew he wasn't. By the look on her face, she recognized his uncomfortable expression as well. She crossed her arms and sat on the nearest armchair. Harry took the armchair directly across from her.  
  
He stared her straight in the face and said, "I'm not ashamed Hermione," he took a breath, looking at her reaction. Surprisingly she did not look distressed. Taking this as a sign of encouragement, he plunged ahead in his words. "Why do you worry Hermione? You already know that I am a murderer as well as that was I was born to be. It has been etched in my history since the Prophecy. Nothing can change it."  
  
Finally she spoke, and her face flushed. Harry felt a sinking feeling; she did not understand. "Harry, that's what scares me most." She looked at him squarely. "You talk about it so lightly! It is murder Harry."  
  
Harry felt a flash of anger. _Now_ she understood. That would have been useful two weeks ago when he didn't want to kill Voldemort, but now it just enraged him for no reason. "Look, first you didn't care. Now you do? _Do_ you really care or understand." She opened her mouth, but Harry continued. "You don't know! You can't! You don't have the emotional depth to understand it," he ranted.  
  
She stood up, "Harry Potter, don't you ever say that again. _I_ was the only one to understand you when you didn't want to be understood. Ron never-," but she choked off. Harry's heart melted and all feelings of aggravation left him in an instant. The clock on the wall clicked loudly, leaving a feeling of tension in the air.  
  
Finally, Hermione spoke again, "Harry do you _want_ to kill him?" Her eyes had a slight fear in them that Harry understood. She knew what answer she wanted.  
  
"For the greater good of course," he responded hoping he was right. Her eyes betrayed that he was wrong.  
  
"You want revenge," she shot back bluntly. "You want revenge for Ron and your parents and S-," but broke off as Harry gave her a fierce glare that he seldom used. Finally she got the courage to say, "It's personal to you now isn't it. Ever since Ron died." It was the first time she had ever spoken of Ron's death in such a blunt manner.  
  
"What's wrong with that?"  
  
"EVERYTHING!" She screamed. "You don't understand do you? You're the same as him! You've both been in similar situations haven't you? Parents dead for you, Voldemort lived in an orphanage. You both never had parent-figures."  
  
Harry looked up angrily, "I had a parent-figure. His name was Sirius Black and you know what happened to him? He was KILLED!" he screamed. "Hermione if I do not finish it for years I'm afraid the people close to me won't be around to see the world without Voldemort!"  
  
She sighed, but her face was etched with sympathy. "No Hermione," he replied to this silent pronouncement sharply. He could not take this anymore. Hermione was not understanding anymore and as far as he was concerned, was not a friend anymore. He saw it inside himself and walked out silently, leaving a slightly stunned, but angry, Hermione to fling her wand across the room where it hit the door to which Harry had just left.

Again, the water that fell from the heavens was light and cool when Harry stepped out. He did not resent Hermione, but she did not understand anymore. He did not think that it would be the same anymore. "Why can't it just be easy? But of course anything with Voldemort is never easy," he mumbled to himself, drawing a curious stare from a passerby. Harry ignored him until he saw the man change before him. Slowly but surely he turned into a man with a mask and a dark cloak. Harry spun at the Death Eater, but was grabbed from behind.  
  
He looked up the road and saw Gringotts being stormed by Death Eaters. He gasped. Was Voldemort really that bold to do something like _this_? Realizing that he was now a hostage, he twisted as his assailant said, "Hello Mr. Potter. Again I believe." Harry turned to hear his stalkers voice that had attacked him in the alley.  
  
"I wanted to kill you, and now I rather wish I had," Harry replied, sneering.  
  
"Yes, I hear Potter," he stopped abruptly to smile, "has undeveloped his...morals? Can it be?"  
  
"Trust me if I had half a chance, I would kill you now," Harry said viciously. He felt the rage bubbling over. _Fight it_ he told himself, but he couldn't stop it.  
  
"Believe me Potter, I won't give you a quarter-chance." Harry tugged at his assailants arm only to have it brought back harder on his throat.  
  
He heard a small spell behind him. His attacker was blasted into the rain, getting soaked. Harry spun out his wand, concentrated all his hate into it, and yelled, "_Avada Kedavra_!"  
  
He turned to see who his helper was only to find Hermione gazing at him palely. "There was no need for that," she said simply. "Tell me you feel bad."  
  
Harry tried to say that he did, but he could not. His mouth was caught in a knot. Of course he did not. He had been _trained_ to not feel remorse. Her face fell when she realized the truth, but Harry saw that behind her, forty or so Death Eaters were spewing into Diagon Alley's winding street. He grabbed her arm, and said, "Come on."  
  
"What are we going to do?" she asked frantically. Harry gazed at her and sniffed. There was nothing more they could do here. Diagon Alley was lost. "We warn Dumbledore about the fall of Diagon Alley."  
  
She started to protest, but Harry shushed her. He disapparated into the rainy mist, not knowing, and not really caring either, if Hermione had followed behind him. 


	11. Best Friends Can't Be Broken

**_Chapter 11 – Best Friends Can't Be Broken_**  
  
"Diagon Alley...has fallen," Voldemort said smugly. Finally, he had done something right!  
  
"Yes Lord Voldemort. You have done well." Voldemort's spirits soared. If he were more in this man's trust, it would be easier to manipulate him.  
  
"Thank you My Lord," he replied with glee.  
  
"Now we are ready." Voldemort did a double take. What did that mean?  
  
"Excuse me, but ready for what?" Voldemort imagined the Cloaked Figure smiling under his hood.  
  
"It has been what we've been waiting to do for so long." Voldemort smiled and laughed. The Cloaked Figure inclined his head slightly.  
  
"We're going to attack Hogwarts."  
  
The Cloaked Figure nodded his head, "yes," he confirmed. Voldemort's heart soared. Finally! He had been waiting to do this for so long.  
  
"What about Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked.  
  
"I will deal with him," the Cloaked Figure said. "Believe me he won't be in the way."  
  
"He always is. The old fool," Voldemort sneered. Then he found pain beyond pain racking through him. He fell on the ground and screamed. What had he done for this Cruciatus Curse? He did not want to know on second thought.  
  
"I have the greatest respect for Dumbledore, Voldemort. He is ten times your better."  
  
"He is not greater than you surely?" Voldemort asked as the pain started to recede.  
  
"You might say that," the Cloaked Figure said, and laughed. "No, my friend, Albus Dumbledore has powers we can only scarcely imagine."  
  
Voldemort smiled and said, "But you keep the balance."  
  
"Yes. I do," the Cloaked Figure smiled, "but Dumbledore keeps his own balance." There was something peculiar about that statement that sent chills into Voldemort. But this was the Cloaked Figure he was talking about. He had always done that to Voldemort. It was part of his brilliance, the ability to inflict pain and imaginary pain.  
  
There was something else though. He almost seemed...mad to Voldemort, possibly insane. Then again, anyone who had a high respect for Dumbledore usually was slightly cracked.  
  
"Hogwarts is our final destination."  
  
"It will be done," Voldemort replied with respect.

"Hermione...come _on_," Harry tugged desperately. Why was she not moving? It would make things so much easier.  
  
Hermione just shrugged. "I can't believe you abandoned Diagon Alley." Harry sniffed.  
  
"You know how contradictory you are right now?" Harry pressed. "First you do not want me to fight, but you want me to stay there." He smiled. "It is almost like you want me dead."  
  
Hermione's face went red. "How _dare_ you say-,"  
  
"I am just kidding. But we really need to hurry."  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"Who do you think?" Harry snapped. "Dumbledore. This is the beginning you know?" he said as they raced up the Hogwarts grounds. It had really been a pain not being able to apparate directly to Dumbledore's office.  
  
(_A/N: Just so you know, I had them apparate out of Hogwarts once before. I am going to try to correct the mistake next._)  
  
"Beginning of what?"  
  
"The end," Harry said shortly. "It is Voldemort's final invasion." He looked off into the distance and said more to himself than anyone else, "It is coming."  
  
Hermione stared at him curiously. "I respect you, you know. What you have to do, but it is just so hard to understand. I can't see you as a murderer."  
  
Harry stopped in the midst of the pressing situation. "I know," he said quietly. "No matter what Hermione, I promise you, Voldemort will not kill me, and I will _not_ turn to evil. I realize that now."  
  
"Harry," she said and hugged him hard. Harry sobbed slightly into her shoulder and felt her sob. It was a strange moment, hugging in a mist, in the middle of the Hogwarts grounds. They were two friends who had seen so much death and destruction and were likely to see more that they wanted to hold for one last embrace before the world changed forever before their eyes.  
  
"We have to hurry," Hermione finally said. Harry pulled back and nodded. "Come on," she said. Harry followed her up. He hoped that maybe just maybe, they could be friends again. Nevertheless, as Harry reflected, he realized that they had never _not_ been friends. They were just going through a rough patch in the trying of war. Nothing could break apart friends, not even Voldemort.

"Harry...I know," Dumbledore said quietly.  
  
"How?" Harry asked quickly.  
  
Dumbledore replied gently, "It is enough that I know." Harry smiled. Why would he have wondered? Dumbledore was so great that Harry would have been surprised if he did _not_ know.  
  
"So what do we _do_?" Hermione asked, tapping her foot quietly. Harry had never seen her so worked up against the Headmaster.  
  
Dumbledore sighed and turned to the back of his desk. He leaned on it for a moment, deep in thought, and then he said, "We wait."  
  
"What?" cried Hermione and Harry in unison. Was Dumbledore actually expecting to abandon Diagon Alley.  
  
"There is nothing more we can do," Dumbledore replied sharply. "And now is not the time to do anything rash Harry."  
  
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "We are going to have to accept Death Eater control for the time being," Dumbledore continued.  
  
"But the Order could-,"  
  
"The Order does not have enough members to fight a fight like this."  
  
"Professor," Harry began, "this is the end for Voldemort. It his final assault. This war _will_ come to a close. You will win, I cannot see."  
  
Dumbledore stroked his beard for a moment then finally surveyed Harry. "Harry, you still have a lot to learn. It is not important that Diagon Alley has fallen. What good would it be to send several Order members to their deaths, if only to reclaim a few shops?"  
  
Harry fell silent. It was true after all. What _was_ so important about Diagon Alley? Was it really worth dying for?  
  
"I still don't like to do nothing," Hermione said, realizing that Harry was in agreement.  
  
"Nor do I," Dumbledore replied. "But sometimes we must put away our pride and do what is expected of us Hermione."  
  
Harry grinned. "You still have the wisdom Dumbledore."  
  
"It will be stolen in a movie I am sure," Dumbledore replied winking.  
  
"Hermione he's right," Harry finally said. "If I'm killed their, but Diagon Alley is reclaimed, what good will it do us? A few more wizards can go shopping?"  
  
"Harry's right," Dumbledore continued. "There is too much at stake right now to risk an operation like that."  
  
Harry looked at Hermione, and saw a determination in her that he very rarely saw. She was ready to go to battle, even to death to honor her husband's death. However, he did not sense a thirst for vengeance that he, himself, felt, but rather a strong desire to help any way she could.  
  
He leaned towards her and murmured, "Hermione, I know the way you feel, but there are plenty of other ways to show your worth, which I might add, you don't need to show. Dumbledore and I know how brave you are, all those times at Hogwarts and later. That is not our fight."  
  
Hermione nodded in understanding, but still did not agree with him. That was fine, Harry figured as long as she did not go charging off to Diagon Alley as he probably would have at Hogwarts, he was fine with understanding.  
  
"The best fight is always the one you can actually _win_," Dumbledore said. "I just hope we can _win_ the war." He sighed and sat down at his desk, starting to fill out some paperwork. Harry took the cue and left with Hermione.  
  
He chanced a backwards glance at Dumbledore and saw in the desk, an old man, weary, but determined. No matter what intentions he had, he knew Dumbledore wanted the best for the world. Harry was determined not to fail him because if he did, he failed the world as well.

"He may say what he wants, but I don't like it," Hermione raged. "_Do what is expected of us?_ I want to go take on Voldemort myself!"  
  
"Hermione, remember in fifth year when I rushed to save Sirius?"  
  
"Of course. You nearly got me killed," Hermione said and smirked.  
  
Harry broke into an incredibly stupid expression and replied, "Are you trying to return the favor?" Hermione was drawn speechless. It was amazing that Harry could still do that out of a tense situation.  
  
"I've learned from those mistakes," Harry started to say seriously. "I never want that to happen again." His eyes stared off into space, at a past he had tried to forget.  
  
They sat in silence for a moment, reflecting all the wisdom thrown at them today.  
  
"How are _you_ doing?" Harry asked, breaking the silence. He had been looking for a good opportunity, but as he found out, there usually weren't good opportunities for discussions like this.  
  
She sighed. "I am trying Harry, I really am. But I just cannot forget him. It feels like that would dishonor him!"  
  
Harry looked at her, "He would not accept such dishonor. Hermione, he would like you to live a full life, not mourning him day and night." Hermione withdrew and trembled.  
  
"I know," she replied and switched tones, "but can we talk about something else?"  
  
"We can, but I am not a fool. Dumbledore told me it is best to help the pain by confronting it. It will only make it worse if we talk about something else." He put his arm around her, "I promise it will make it better."  
  
She sighed with a ragged breath and looked down. "I know."  
  
Harry didn't say a word. He knew how important this was for her to gather herself and did not want to prompt her. She closed her eyes for moment and began. "What I said in my speech was true you know. We have to fight to the end."  
  
Harry nodded and let her continue, "But right now, I'm fighting a losing battle. Harry...I think that it is...I don't know...threatening to overcome me. And if I let it, I will collapse into a ball of despair. Part of me wants to too. To rid myself of the world and the pain, but the other part, the rational side of me says I can't. It says I must be strong."  
  
"You already are strong," Harry whispered, looking at her. He could really connect with her. Sometimes his thirst for revenge threatened to overcome him, but he vowed never to let that happen.  
  
She sniffed finally and continued, "I really miss him though, you know. How could I not? I mean, he's Ron isn't he? Our best friend right?"  
  
"Right," Harry said without hesitation. He felt the grief washing off Hermione, and he accepted it for her, trying to feel strong. But he did not. He would never feel strong while a friend was in need.  
  
"Ron was...one of the most loving men I have ever known," she sobbed, not really making much sense. Her eyes glistened with tears, but she still smiled. "The other one is sitting next to me." Harry smiled, but wasn't sure he got rid of his uncomfort. He hoped she meant 'loving' in a friendly way.  
  
"I miss everything about him Harry. I miss his hair, his complaining, and his kisses. I look in the mirror and I realize that I will never know that again. I will never see my friend and husband again." She closed her eyes for a moment, and the tears flowed freely. She leaned over suddenly and kissed him.  
  
Harry sat there frozen, disbelieving, but in a flash, he understood. She wanted a moment of love for a minute longer. She wanted to stay there and enjoy it. It was a kiss out of friendship, and giving Hermione one last chance to connect to Ron, even if it was through Harry. They broke apart and lied on the couch together, Harry stroking Hermione comfortingly, reflecting about their best friend, whom they could never know again. 


	12. The End Approaches

**_Chapter 12 – The End Approaches_**  
  
"We still have quite a bit of planning yet to do My Lord. I have spent hours in the Pensieve remembering anything about Hogwarts that could be used for or against us."  
  
"Very good Lord Voldemort. When will you be ready?"  
  
"A week." Voldemort looked at the robe, hoping this was satisfactory.  
  
"Make it four days and I'll be satisfied. Make it tomorrow and you will please me," The Cloaked Figure replied, sensing Voldemort's apprehension. This was a common practice of his and Voldemort saw how subtle a lesson there was in this. He did not accept whatever Voldemort deemed as a good job and tried to push him to the limit. It was as any good commander would do.  
  
"I obey," Voldemort said, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. "You must understand though, that this is a very important matter. We _must not rush things_!"  
  
"I agree," the Cloaked Figure replied, "yet we must not give our enemy a chance to plan, but at the same time, plan adequately."  
  
"You are saying?" Voldemort asked, again confused.  
  
"You fool!" The Cloaked Figure spat. "I am saying you shouldn't waste time!" Voldemort blinked, but recovered fast. It was a truly obvious lesson; one that Voldemort could have figured out on his own, but he dare not say anything.  
  
"How will they know of our attack anyways?" Voldemort asked politely.  
  
The Cloaked Figure moved around slowly and spoke with a slight hiss, "Do not underestimate Potter or Dumbledore. They have the rare gift of reading between the lines of any situation. What will they think when they realize that every Death Eater is pulling back. Worse, if they encounter a Death Eater, who knows what information they will obtain. And do not forget about the spies, Voldemort. They are everywhere. Trust no one."  
  
"You sound like a terribly acted paranoid old fool," Voldemort said, quite forgetting to whom he was talking.  
  
"Yet who is more foolish, the man who gets stabbed in the back by someone he trusted or the man who killed a man who _might_ be a traitor."  
  
"Yet if he kills him he will never know," Voldemort responded, determined to find a flaw in this man's logic.  
  
"Then what do you suggest?"  
  
"Capture him and torture him," Voldemort said simply. "_Make_ him give the information to you."  
  
"There is one problem with _make_ however," The Cloaked Figure said. "If you _make_ that person say something, he will inevitably tell you what you want to hear which gets us nowhere. No Voldemort, better safe than sorry." Voldemort stared at him curiously and began to speak when he was interrupted.  
  
"I will not betray you Voldemort," The Cloaked Figure whispered. "Now that we are at an end I can speak frankly." He sighed. Voldemort leaned forward expectantly. He had never been this forward with anything before. Usually lies and deceit were his lifeblood, but now...everything had changed apparently.  
  
"_Vivificus Auctorita_," The Cloaked Figure mumbled to himself. Then he looked up. "Voldemort it was a lie."  
  
"What?" Voldemort yelled, shaking the nearby trees. He leaned on one to hold himself steady.  
  
"You were a liability," The Cloaked Figure replied simply. "I had to hold _something_ over your head. No Voldemort, _Vivificus Auctorita_ does not exist."  
  
"So this means-,"  
  
"Yes, Lord Voldemort. It means you are practically invincible." _Tell the birds what they want to hear_ the Cloaked Figure thought to himself. Voldemort was the most easy to manipulate ever. He believed anything you wanted to hear.  
  
"There will be nothing to stop us," Voldemort thundered.  
  
"You are correct." The Cloaked Figure smirked. He wished he could see Voldemort's face when he realized how _wrong_ that previous statement actually was. Harry Potter would be Voldemort's downfall and, like the phoenix, from the ashes would be born anew.

"I just don't understand this?" Harry fumed, "How could it have happened?"  
  
"Harry, they gave their lives to protect, and they did! As I told you, Nymphadora and the others died honorably and that stands!"  
  
"I believe it," Harry said, "but I just do not believe it."  
  
Hermione bit her lip and Harry knew she was fighting back saying how contradictory that statement he made just was. He ignored it, and continued, "I just don't believe it."  
  
"Harry you, yourself are an Auror. What do you feel about death?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"I never have to worry about dying because I know only Voldemort can do it."  
  
"Bad example," Hermione mumbled under her breath.  
  
"Quite the contrary Hermione," Dumbledore replied. "They all just have different reasons to not fear death." He looked at Harry and Harry felt that he would not like Dumbledore's next comment, yet he knew that he would understand it all the same. "Harry they were Aurors. They did not fear death."  
  
Harry shook his head and blinked back tears. "I just...don't want...," but he trailed off.  
  
Dumbledore looked at him. Harry knew that Dumbledore could see right through him. "You do not want to hate him anymore than you already do."  
  
Harry didn't say a word or move an inch. Dumbledore stood up and clapped his hands on Harry's shoulder. "Forget about your troubles for an hour Harry," he said as he gestured out the window. "Do what you love." 

Harry smiled as the wind whipped through his face. It felt so good to be out here again. As usual, Dumbledore knew exactly what Harry needed. He should have been a Healer!  
  
He did a quick loop and saw the goalposts dead ahead. He tightened his grip on the broom, and tried something he had wanted to do for a long time. This would require exact precision.  
  
Mentally ready, he dove towards the goalpost and went right in between it. He held on to his head as corkscrewed out of the dangerous move. He looked down at the ground and spinning world. _That_ was something he had to do again.  
  
When he finally righted himself, he saw a lone figure on the ground cheering. He dived down and came an alarmingly close distance to Hermione when he stopped. She gasped and started to giggle.  
  
"That was one good move," Hermione said.  
  
"Not good for the head though," Harry said and rubbed his now throbbing head.  
  
"Well, sit down for a moment then to calm down. We can..._talk_."  
  
After a few minutes of silence, Harry started. "So why are you here?"  
  
"To see you. And..." but didn't finish, eyeing Harry to see if he caught it.  
  
Harry looked at her with a stern expression, but then softened. "You want to think of something besides Ron."  
  
"I have to," she said defiantly as if Harry had taken a shot at her. He held up his hands on then put them down to his knees.  
  
"I want to forget the pain," she said to which Harry smiled. He held out his hand to help her to her feet. "I can help with that!" 

"Oh my _God_ Harry!" Hermione screamed from way above the world. Harry grinned and looked at that amazing sunset. It looked even more amazing from a hundred feet off the ground.  
  
"Hermione, hold onto your stomach," he said, and executed a barrel roll that sent them spinning dizzily over the Forbidden Forest. Hermione had her hands over her eyes. Harry grinned, "You know it makes it a lot worse if you close your eyes."  
  
"I don't care," Hermione screamed as she giggled.  
  
"What if I do this?" Harry said and dove towards the treetops. Hermione felt her stomach drop and looked. "Harry you bastard!" she laughed as they plunged towards the ground.  
  
Then, and he did not know how it happened, he felt himself falling off the broom, and plunging towards the forest.  
  
When they got up off the ground, for they were unhurt, Hermione asked, "You know you're an idiot. You didn't have to go that close to impress me."  
  
Harry looked at her both playfully and irritably. "I didn't hit a tree."  
  
"Then explain exactly _how_ you fell," Hermione had her hands on her hips.  
  
"I...don't...know," he finally said, gritting his teeth to which Hermione laugh. "Always like a pilot."  
  
Harry looked around. "Come on, let's find a way out of here." He grabbed his broom, but Hermione held his hand. "We can't go up that way. The _trees_ are too thick."  
  
Harry looked up. "They don't look that thick to me! We can probably get through."  
  
Hermione sighed and continued her _argument_, "No we can't Harry."  
  
Harry looked at her, finally realizing what she wanted and blushed. "No," he said finally. "Last night, it was...just a remembrance of Ron. Nothing more!" Inside, however, he knew the truth.  
  
Hermione studied him. "Harry, I just want to be rid of the pain."  
  
"Well if that's all, count me out."  
  
Hermione took his hand, "No Harry. It's not. Come on." She pressed up closer to him. Harry thought of Ron and knew this was not right. He looked at her face, her broken, yet still strong face, and sighed. He felt her coming closer, ever closer. He closed his eyes. _Forgive me Ron_ he thought and melted into the kiss. 

"Slowly Nagani, slowly." Harry shot up immediately. He knew that voice; who wouldn't. He got up from Hermione, and slid over to where he thought he heard the voice. Things were so creepy in here now. Compared to _then_. _Then_ being only a few hours ago.  
  
He went over to the brush on the slid down quietly. There was Nagani, Voldemort's snake, and there stood Voldemort himself. Harry looked at himself and realized he was not dressed. He sighed, it was either go back and not see what Voldemort was up to, or stay naked and listen. _How do I ever find myself in these situations_ Harry thought.  
  
"Yes Nagani." Voldmort hissed. "Here they come." Harry gasped when he saw the Death Eaters appear directly at his side. Could Voldemort really do what he thought he was going to do? Harry never really believed it, but now he was sure. Voldemort was attacking Hogwarts!  
  
Another man was talking now, "Men, you have your orders. Make the final plans tonight, and you will attack tomorrow." Harry gasped again. It was his mentor, the Cloaked Figure.  
  
Harry was about to jump out, when he realized he could not win. He couldn't defeat a hundred or more Death Eaters and Voldemort at the same time. Especially not in his _circumstances_.  
  
The Cloaked Figure looked over his way, and Harry had a feeling he knew where Harry was.  
  
Harry didn't stay for the rest of the party. He knew what he had to do, warn Hogwarts that the attack would fall tomorrow. He stumbled around, desperately looking for the way back. His agenda right now was clear: he had to get back in time, but he still had to find Hermione, get dressed and-  
  
But his part of his worry was over when he saw Hermione running out towards him. She, unlike him, was fully cloathed. "Becoming one with nature now are you?" Harry blushed, but Hermione shooed it away. "Harry, as of right now, there's nothing that you can't hide that I haven't seen." Harry conceded the point. It was true after all, they had had sex. He had to think about something else right now.  
  
"Voldemort's out there," he said finally.  
  
"What?" she asked, not quite registering the words.  
  
"He's attacking," Harry said impatiently.  
  
"What-,"  
  
"We warn Hogwarts," Harry said. Then he sighed, "Again."  
  
Hermione sighed, "Seems to be the order of the day."  
  
Together, they sprinted off into the blackness of the Forbidden Forest. Harry hoped he knew which way he was going, because unlike before, he could see absolutely _no_ holes anywhere in the treetops he could fly out of.  
  
Together, for a few hours after sex with a woman, Harry figured was not a good thing at all. 


	13. Gem Power

**Part 4 – The Balance Regained**  
  
**_Chapter 13 – Gem Power_**  
  
"You don't know me, Death Eaters," the Cloaked Figure said in the midst of the Forbidden Forest. "But I am a balance-keeper. I am the one Voldemort serves and your true master."  
  
"I have guided you here today, to start a new age; an age where order and swift justice are not crimes! An age when there is no so called _good vs. evil_! An age where balance is kept!"  
  
"This my friends, is my passion and my life. Voldemort, means nothing to me. You, mean nothing to me. But the fact is, no matter how inescapable you want it to sound, you _cannot say that our paths are different!_ Because Death Eaters, they are not! We lie on the same path, and that path is to bring justice back to Hogwarts!"  
  
"When we arrive we shall make the school a battleground! We shall take out the useless training these so-called wizards go through. We will take the Mudbloods out!"  
  
"You may think I'm fanatical. I am not. You may think that I am crazy. I am not. You may think that I am just using you all for my own dark purposes. I am not. Let us benefit from this friendship and give glory to the name of _pureblood_."  
  
"Men, you have your orders. Make the final plans tonight and you will attack tomorrow." The Cloaked Figure turned slightly. Was that Potter in the bushes over there? And why in the hell was he _naked_ of all blasted things. He looked closer and saw that it _was_. Perfect. When he looked again, Potter was gone. He finished his speech with more sappy, politically drenched words and stepped off the stand.  
  
"Voldemort, Potter is here," The Cloaked Figure said.  
  
"Really? How do you know?"  
  
"Because I saw him spying on us," the Cloaked Figure replied, smugly. He couldn't wait until he saw Voldemort's reaction to this.  
  
Indeed it was good. Voldemort's face became slightly pink, for he was white to begin with, and his mouth bristled. "And you did not tell me because...?"  
  
"You fool!" the Cloaked Figure spat. "Potter is no fool. You will meet him on your own time! _I_ will not interfere." The fool. He was so easily manipulated and he did not even realize it.  
  
"My Lord, with all due respect, I could have finally ended the Potter situation now."  
  
"And if you lose! Are you willing to lose in front of some of your best Death Eaters, forever being branded as the idiot who couldn't kill Harry Potter." The Cloaked Figure grinned underneath his hood. "Who had countless chances to."  
  
"That is beside the point-!" Voldemort raged.  
  
"Careful Voldemort," the Cloaked Figure said warningly. "Just because _Vivificus Auctorita_ doesn't exist, does not mean that I don't have other ways to keep you under control."  
  
Voldemort fell dead, but did not speak. The Cloaked Figure stood, "You do have my permission however, to engage him in psychological warfare. Just do not kill him!" As if Voldemort could.  
  
"Yes My Lord."  
  
"Meanwhile, I will seek out and talk to Potter." After all, Potter is not a fool.  
  
_I always hate it when I have to keep the balance. It's so stressful,_ he thought and walked off.

The uncomfort grew as they journey through the forest, not speaking to each other on the way back. They did not hurry through the woods without looking back, nor were they speaking to each other. They knew what they had just shared, and they both were a little afraid of it, a little ashamed of it, and a little excited by it.  
  
Slowly, foot by foot, they started to emerge into lighter sections of the forest. Harry turned to glance at Hermione, but she was keeping up. Something felt strange to Harry though. It was almost like a vaguely familiar presence swooping down on him. He had thought it might have just been since he was in here before, but he had a feeling that was not it.  
  
He heard a snap under his foot as he walked over a stick, but that did not break his stride. Harry looked at the tree. It was leaning over. Surely it would fall at an angle like that!   
  
Then he noticed that the other trees were swaying slightly also. What in the world? He shook his head. It was spinning and he couldn't control it.  
  
It happened slowly at first, but slowly, faster and faster the forest was becoming a blur of motion. He tried to hold on to his head and shook it a little bit, which seemed to help. No it didn't. Never mind.  
  
Stumbling slightly, he grabbed a tree and held on. What was happening? He thought he distantly heard Hermione say, "What's the matter Harry? Do you need to sit down," before he gave in to the ever swallowing blackness of the void.

_His scar was in flames for the first time in seven years. It was his sixth year wasn't it, when he finally got rid of the awful pains. Now, he instinctively clutched at it, like a memory he did not want to lose. And there was the person to whom Harry knew would come.  
  
Lord Voldemort.  
  
His voice seemed to echo in the void, making it sound tall and menacing. "Harry Potter. Finally we end it."  
  
"No!" Harry shouted. It would not end like this. He would fight Voldemort in person. That was the only way, but this mind struggle seemed so...cheap to Harry.  
  
"Have you ever heard of a proper duel?" Harry asked trying to sound slightly miffed about this whole operation.  
  
"Of course I have Harry, but never mind that! Just die!"  
  
Harry struggled against the pain as the red body flashed around him. He felt terrible and wished he would just die. "Are you really this cowardly?" Harry shouted and laughed.  
  
His taunt did not work. Voldemort didn't seem to care anymore because he had no pride. It would end right here, Voldemort would end it now."  
  
He looked up, expecting to see Voldemort's foul face sneering at him, but instead saw Hermione.  
  
_Stay there Hermione_ he thought to himself, willing her to hear. _Don't come into the void!_ But instead, she reached out her hand and pulled him up. He was lifting gloriously towards the light, away from Voldemort, away from the pain. He didn't even think about what had been plaguing him for months he was so relieved. He didn't think about that he eventually _would_ have to meet Voldemort._

"Harry, I've seen it before. It's caused by stress!"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No it wasn't," he replied. "It was Voldemort." Hermione opened her mouth slightly in shock, but then thought better of it. Her eyes were deep and unmoving, and he just stared, losing himself in the endless chasm of blue.  
  
After a few minutes, Harry finally snapped out of it and said, "How far do we have?"  
  
"We're almost there I think Harry, only we're-," she continued at Harry's prompting, "we're a little lost."  
  
Harry nodded. This looked vaguely familiar, and he was sure that once his mind was clear, he would be able to think of the way out.  
  
"Let's just wait here a bit," he said smiling. She looked at him and sighed. "Harry we have to make up for lost time. You were out nearly ten minutes."  
  
"But we don't know where we are," Harry protested. "If we go the wrong direction, we might end up wandering and wasting even more time."  
  
"So then what are our choices?" Hermione asked, her hands, again on her hips.  
  
"Well, we can wait until I think of it, waste five minutes, _but_ be sure that I know the way and we'll get out. Or we can choose to go in a direction _randomly_ on the _slight_ chance we might find our way out."  
  
Hermione grinned. "I like slight chances. That's when we seem to work best." Harry saw determination in her eyes, and a spark he never usually saw.  
  
"So you want to go on."  
  
"Harry, I'm pretty sure that if we go _that_ way," she replied, pointing to a path leading to the right, "we'll find the way out."  
  
Harry sighed again, but relented, mumbling, "You're usually the rational one."  
  
It was just another sign that he had matured since Hogwarts, thinking with his head, not his heart. So much had changed since then, there was such difference in people's motivations since then. Politics were minimal at Hogwarts, but now, people were always calculating, always trying to find the situation that would suit them best. Harry hated it.  
  
He followed her slowly until they were some feet away from where they just were. The forest was growing darker again, and Harry thought he saw the leaves becoming thicker overhead. There was absolutely no possible way that this was the right way.  
  
Harry just continued. He had to give Hermione the chance to prove herself. He had to almost _let_ her fail. The problem was, was that right now, that could prove fatal to Hogwarts.

"I _knew_ it was this way," Hermione fumed, kicking a log.  
  
"Just forget it okay? We'll find another way out," Harry replied, tiredly. "Let's just sit and rest for a few moments." Harry sat down on a log to his left and kicked out his feet, as if it was the most comfortable chair he had ever sat on.  
  
Reluctantly, Hermione sat down next to him, her face red, and fuming. Harry did not say a thing. He knew the emotional turmoil Hermione was going through right now, and did not want to break into her thoughts. He, especially, knew how bad it was to have someone prying at your thoughts.  
  
Thus, they sat in silence a few moments. Harry looked around, and grinned slightly. How ironic was it that they were lost in the _Forbidden Forest_? How many times had they been in here before? Although, Harry had to admit, they had never been this far in before.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione spoke up quietly.  
  
"Yeah?" Harry asked.  
  
"Do you think you can kill Voldemort?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry admitted looking at the ground, "but I'll try."  
  
"_I_ know you will," Hermione said, trying to reassure Harry about his plight.  
  
Harry smiled sadly. "Well, if you didn't say that, I'd be a little worried." He turned to face her. "Hermione, this battle will be like nothing you've ever seen before."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because we can't kill each other with magic," Harry shrugged it off. This was old news anyways. "We'll have to kill each other with Muggle weapons."  
  
Harry stood up. "I'm going to have a look around, and see if anything rings a bell." Hermione nodded, and he walked off into the vanishing blackness.

Harry walked around the woods, until he finally got through, out of the earshot of Hermione. "Come on Cloaked Figure, I know you're around here," he mumbled. He had seen him a few minutes ago, as they were walking towards a partially cleared spot in the woods.  
  
"Yes I am, Harry Potter," he heard a voice to his left. Harry spun.  
  
"You said you wanted Voldemort dead," Harry raged.  
  
"And I do. But like I've always said Harry Potter, keep your friends close, and your enemies...even closer."  
  
Harry looked at the man in disbelief. No way could he be manipulating Voldemort. It was practically impossible.  
  
"Harry Potter, the final battle is coming, and you must be prepared."  
  
"Prepared for what? I thought you had taught me enough all ready."  
  
"Almost, except for one thing."  
  
"And what is that?"  
  
"_Vivificus Auctorita_, Harry Potter."  
  
"The Gem-Power Spell?" Harry gasped. That was a legendary spell where you would gain unimaginable power, by sealing it in a stone, but you would lose it if the stone broke, becoming weaker than one could possibly imagine.  
  
"The very same," the Cloaked Figure replied.  
  
"You're not going to...do that on me?" Harry asked, a little afraid.  
  
"Voldemort has it as well. He will crush you like a pig. But...if that's what you want-,"  
  
Harry sighed. He would have to, if he wanted to save the World. "Alright."

When Harry got back, he looked at Hermione. She blinked, and then looked up. Her face brightened in astonishment, and she stood. "Harry, I remember."  
  
"Remember what?" Harry asked, not daring to believe.  
  
"Just follow me," she replied, as if Harry would trust her with directions again. Harry wasn't so forgiving.  
  
"Wait a minute Hermione," Harry said, and stood. "Where are you-,"  
  
"Just come on," she replied and grabbed his hand. Harry, still trying to break free, finally accepted it, and they journeyed farther in the direction they had just come from. As they walked farther, Harry's trepidation lessened as they were getting farther and farther.  
  
Finally the trees started to thin after about ten minutes. Harry looked up, "Hermione,  
you-,"  
  
"Yes I know, Harry just come on. We have to hurry." Harry had seen Hermione like this rarely. She was bound a determined to figure get back to Hogwarts. It was a fire that was only reawakened when a breath of oxygen came inside her body.  
  
Finally the trees cleared, and standing in front of them was Hogwarts castle. It glittered in the moonlight, unaware that the final battle would take place under its graceful spires and towers.  
  
Harry sighed. "Let the final battle begin," he said, and, ignoring the feeling of forbidding he got when he did, raced up the grounds towards the Entrance. 


End file.
